Quicksilver
by Reese S. Quill
Summary: Neither Kanrik nor Galem came back from that fateful battle in Terror Mountain, leaving Masila the only one to rebuild the husk of the Thieves' Guild. Years later, a few well-known characters find themselves having slightly different futures. The tale has been changed, but is it for the better? AU.


**A/N: Rights to Neopets are not mine, nor are Sam, or Marie, or any character you know belongs to Amethyst (and a lot of them are here!). A slight AU to the BD/HJ universe, with pointed differences. I'm not sure I'll update this, but I'll leave it incomplete for now in case inspiration strikes me later on. If I do, I'll update it whenever there's a special occasion (Easter, Halloween, Valentine's Day, etc.) Neopets are from TNT. Song is "Some Nights" by Fun. Of course, a lot of Ame's characters are here. Spoilers for both stories, if you haven't read them yet. **

* * *

**1: A Crossing-Place**

* * *

_But I still wake up, I still see your ghost_

_Oh, Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh—_

_What do I stand for? What do I stand for?_

_Most nights, I don't know_

_Anymore…._

* * *

The guards of Brightvale were rumoured to be one of the best in Neopia, which was surprising to a lot of the common folk. Where in the land of books and knowledge could they scrounge up anyone better than Sir Jeran or Gorix? How could they have possible beaten places like Maraqua, weary and experienced for war, or Altador, protected by magic and might of all kinds? Yet, it was true. Tournament after tournament, win after win, proved that the Brightvale Guard could hold their own. It would seem that it is a very bad idea to mess with bookworms.

One such guard was on duty in a November afternoon. Her sword was ever on hand, her eyes bright and alert, but her body was relaxed; despite being one of the best officers, she did not, nor was expected, to stop any real crime today. In fact, she mused, they probably gave her this slot because they thought she was working too hard. That bothered her. She wanted a promotion already, for crying out loud. On the back of her mind, a little voice whispered that maybe she would have gotten it by now if she wasn't kind-of-friends with a certain thief, but she wiped that thought away. She had her own work ethic.

Besides, she supposed. She could use a break once in a while.

All she was doing was minding the cookies—cookies that they charged her to sell, with the profit going to the public library. Personally, she thought that they would do better if they used it to help poor people; but even she thought it would not be a wise idea to voice that thought out loud. It proved to be a rather dull job…well, until now, anyway. She smiled in amusement as she watched two little children, , perhaps two or three years old, bickering.

The Ixi, she knew. She had never met him before, but she simply knew, on sight, exactly who he was. It was almost startling to see how much he looked like his father already, and she suspected he'd grow up to be a handsome guy someday. For now, he seemed perfectly at ease to use his toddler cuteness.

The little Acara next to him had a long, dark braid and steely grey eyes, and a tension around her shoulders suggested she was used to being cautious; but the small smile she had on her lips also seemed to say that she was just as childish as her friend. Her words certainly did. Summer Vines nearly laughed as she heard them even from where she was standing. "Betcha you can't lift a cookie," she was saying.

"Can too," the boy pouted.

"Can _not._"

"Can too!"

"Can _not_!"

"Can too!"

"Prove it, then," the girl challenged with a wave of her braid. It touched the tip of the Ixi's nose, and he shoved it away.

He scowled at her. "Why should I?"

"Because," she said, in a sweet voice, "If you don't, I'll tell everyone how you once dyed your fur pink."

He looked horrified. "You wouldn't.

"I think we both know that I _would."_

"Fine," he grumbled. "But once I nick it – which I _will_! – I'm not going to share it with you."

"Fair enough."

To Summer's complete amazement, she almost didn't see the boy when he swiped the biscuit from the table. She probably wouldn't have seen him at all or thought he was stealing if she hadn't listened to the conversation. _Well, _she thought dryly. _He's got his parents' talent—he's probably going to be quite a handful someday. _She shook her head. It was kinda cute, actually; he was sticking his tongue out at the girl, and she was rolling her eyes and mumbling something about the guard not paying attention anyway. She snickered; she couldn't let them get away with _that._

She made it about five steps before she realized it was unnecessary.

A pair of hands grabbed the toddlers' wrists. "Are you crazy?" a red-headed Kyrii boy around seven years old hissed. Summer smirked. _Him _she knew very, very well. The two children looked down with guilty expressions on their faces. He crossed his arms. "What's the first rule about stealing, kiddos?"

"Make sure you do it within one minute?"

"Have a lookout to tell you when the guard is looking at another direction?"

"No!" he exclaimed, and then conceded, "Though those were good guesses. Try again."

They both looked at each other and sighed. "Never get caught," they recited together. Then the Ixi said, "But, Sam, nobody saw me."

"That's what you think," he retorted. "Miss Vines happens to be a very good guard. Look, she's walking towards you right now." They both turned and blinked as they saw her. "Oops."

"Oops indeed," Summer said, grinning mischievously. "But since it's your first time, I suppose I can let you off just this once. You've already eaten the evidence, anyway," she added wryly. The Ixi held up his hands in surrender. "So," she said, kneeling down so she was eye-level with the two kids. "What might you two be called?"

"I'm Hanso Laron!" the little boy said brightly. Summer supressed a grin. _Laron. _She knew it. He pointed to the girl beside him. "This is my best friend! Her name is Kayley Halvard!" The girl face-palmed. "And that's Sam-"

"Miss Vines already knows me," Sam interrupted, flashing Summer a trademark grin that seemed to run in the family. "Now, kiddos, your parents are out looking for you. If you be real good and scoot off now, I promise I won't tell them what happened." Quick as a wink, the two kids were gone. Summer raised her eyebrows. "Sorry about that," Sam apologized. "Those two are a little…enthusiastic. I'll try to rein them in from now on."

"Rein them in?" she asked, amused. "Or teach them sneakier ways to do things so they won't get caught?"

Sam smirked and held up a cookie he had stolen without her noticing as an answer. He swallowed it. "Hey," he said, his hands on his pockets. "The stuffy old king has enough books in the library anyway. Some people in the Guild have to _eat._ And I'm a growing boy."

"How did you _do _that?" she asked, amazed.

"Sorry. Trade secret. Me learning from the best probably has something to do with it, though," he added thoughtfully. "Well, Miss Vines, it was sure nice to see you again. Peter told me to tell you hi, and sorry he's not stopping by so much—he's got a family to take care of, now," he said, nodding at the direction Hanso went. He made to go, and then paused, as if wanting to say something. The corner of Summer's mouth twitched. She knew exactly what he wanted to ask.

"What is it, Sammy?" she said in her most encouraging voice.

"Um." He shuffled from foot to foot, slightly embarrassed. "The training for the new guards starts in January, right?"

"Yes," she replied. "The deadline for the sign-up is Christmas—after all, we guards have to go home _sometime. _Six- or seven-year-olds are our main starting point," she supplemented helpfully.

He darted a quick look in her eyes, and then turned around. "Okay. Just checking."

"Sammy!" She placed a hand on his shoulder, but he automatically stiffened. She sighed—she knew if she wasn't careful about this, she would lose him completely. And she didn't want that. In his agility, strength, and quick-thinking, she saw a lot of potential, and she did not want to let it go to waste. "I think we both know why you asked that question."

"That obvious?" He smiled ruefully, but he shook her hand off. "Yeah, well, what's it to you?"

"You're a very bright boy," she told him. "You can have a future here…"

"I can have a future wherever I want," he answered stiffly.

"I'm sure that's true, Sam. But you have to remember to go for one that you _really _want, not what you think you _should _get."

"Uh-huh. Thanks for the pep-talk, Miss Vines, but I really gotta get going. I'm a little late for an appointment."

"Sam!" she called after him again. He turned back with a mixture of apprehension and puzzlement. She knew nothing she could say would convince the stubborn boy of the path he had chosen; she did not have the power, unfortunately, to move and soothe a person with the person with the sound of her voice. It was always a particular weakness of hers, especially when she was dealing with his family. Instead, she used complete and utter frankness, something well she was well-suited on. "Your aunt is not stupid," she said simply. Sam flinched. "She can see what's going on as clearly as anyone else can."

_And if she doesn't approve of you having higher ambitions than becoming a thief, it's a sign that she doesn't love you at all. _But Summer held her tongue, knowing exactly the consequences of badmouthing his precious relative.

"I know" was all he said. Before Summer could even blink, he had already disappeared in to the crowd.

* * *

The first time Summer Vines met Samuel Evans, he was about the same age as little Kayley and Hanso. At first, she didn't notice him much. She was in charge of a new batch of seven-year-olds eager to fight crime, and if a little kid wanted to watch, she saw no reason to stop him. Perhaps it would inspire him to join one day—though she was desperately hoping that someone else would be hired for the teaching job and she could return to her field work. She was instructing the group on the basics of capturing criminals when, at the corner of her eye, she spotted two boys sneaking off. Before she could drag him back and yell at him, she heard one say to his friend, "Hey, that's Miss Quicksilver's nephew."

Despite herself, Summer was distracted. Masila Fatale was a name well-known to the guards as one of the guards, partly because she was the most unhelpful citizen they ever crossed paths with, partly because there was a rumour that she was the leader of the Thieves' Guild.

Unfortunately, all they _had _was a rumour. Besides a few unreliable witnesses swearing they saw her associate with thieves and one blurred photograph of a hooded lady stealing a jewelled necklace, they had no evidence that she'd ever even committed a crime—hence the nickname 'Quicksilver'. Not that it surprised her, Summer always thought. If the Guild's first rule was to not get caught, it would make sense that the top member followed it. She was a frustrating enigma to many people, refusing to admit either way. In one memorable interrogation Summer had eavesdropped on a few years ago, the Captain had yelled at her that if she didn't say she was innocent, she'd be assumed guilty and thrown in to jail.

"_Funny, I thought it was 'innocent until proven guilty', not the other way around," the lady said dryly. _

"_Is that a confession?"_

_She snorted. "No."_

"_If you say you are, you have my word that you'll get a lighter sentence. If you aren't, just tell us and we'll let you go."_

"_That easy, huh?" Summer could almost hear the smirk. "Sorry, hon. I know the law says you can only hold a suspect for a week, and I'm prepared to wait that out; for all you know, you can be imprisoning an innocent lady against her will."_

"_But-"_

"_Listen, darling. This is actually very simple. You can either choose to throw me in jail, in which case I will remain as frustrating as ever and rile up some trouble in the cute little place you call prison, or you can let me out now and I won't bother you. Agreed?" Even without looking at him, Summer could tell the Captain was flabbergasted. The woman had turned to tables on him with just a few words. _

"_Captain," said the Lieutenant's voice. "I think we should let her out. There's nothing we can gain here."_

"_It appears so," the man muttered. "Would you at least answer one question?"_

"_Depends on what is."_

"_Why are you being so uncooperative?"_

_A laugh. "It's more fun that way."_

In many ways, Summer had a certain respect for her. She knew that she did not tolerate terrorism –something that gained her many enemies but left most would-be troublemakers inefficient in using weapons – and that the lady had done many things the Guard couldn't (or wouldn't) do for the poor people. But Summer feared her, too. Many stories hinted at her gaining her position in the Guild through a lot of violence and bloodshed.

She was undoubtedly curious to see her nephew.

To her surprise, it was the baker's boy—a spry, cheerful lad who often helped his parents with the shop but, as she thought, always had a look in his eyes that seemed wistful for adventure. He gazed at the two boys warily. "Hold on, class," she told her students. They immediately began talking among themselves, probably thinking that she was off to scold their fellow classmates.

As she got closer, she could hear the words they were saying.

"I heard you're set to be the next Big Thief Guy," one of her students said, circling the kid. "Too bad you can only pound dough—and you're not even good at it. The bread from your bakery is horrible."

"Then don't buy it," the little boy retorted, his fists clenched. Summer knew that stance well. For some reason, he was holding himself back.

The other student pushed him over. "You've got some nerve, talking back to _us _like that."

"You don't look so tough to me," the little guard taunted. "You're just a wriggly pile of limbs."

"A slimy slorg," the other agreed.

"Are you sure your parents didn't just find you from the bin? Maybe while they were scavenging, they thought you were a big bug and decided to keep you as a pet."

"Aw, what's the matter? Is the wittle bwaby gonna cry?"

"Shut up!" he shrieked, his mouth quivering.

Summer was just about to interfere, when one of the boys said, "You know, I don't believe that your auntie's really the leader of the Thieves' Guild." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at them. "From the looks of you, she's probably lousy at being a thief. I bet she drops everything. But hey, she doesn't work at the bakery. Hmm, I wonder what she _really _does? Maybe she eats from the trash. Or, wait, maybe she's a little _loose _with herself-"

And that's when the little boy attacked. He pounced on the guy, knocking him over, and pounded mercilessly with exact strikes on the face. His friend shrieked and ran the other way. Blood spurted all over the guard's uniform. "Don't _ever _insult Auntie!" the boy was hissing. "Ever!" He kicked him in a place that would particularly hurt – Summer winced – and the student who was jeering at him with such ease before gave a little yelp, trembled, and fainted.

The little boy stood up—and saw Summer. His eyes widened, but she was already too close to him; she grabbed his sleeve before he could run away. "Hold on."

"It wasn't my fault!" he protested, wriggling. "H-he insulted Auntie! I couldn't let him get away with that!"

"Calm down," Summer soothed. "I know you were provoked. I'm not going to punish you." He stopped fighting. "Wow," she said, slightly impressed. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

He frowned at her. "You're not gonna get information about Auntie outta _me._"

"I wasn't intending to. You have very good fighting skills."

"Really?" He grinned. "Thanks, lady! I've been practicing lots and lots."

"So you're trained?"

"Kinda. I'm not allowed to start the really advanced stuff until I'm older, but Auntie allowed me to learn a few moves so I can defend myself against…" He glanced at her uniform and trailed off.

Summer bit her lip, dismayed. It's a sad day when people start learning fighting skills to defend themselves against _guards. _"We're not all like that, you know."

"Oh, I do," he reassured her. "She told me a lot of times that guards are not evil—they're just really annoying sometimes." Summer's eyebrows flew up. "And I know Peter Laron," he continued. He tilted his head curiously. "You're Summer Vines, aren't you? He says you're very nice." She smiled slightly.

"Yes, I count him as one of my friends. But you know," she said, getting back on the topic of training, "If you actually have fighting skills, and my guards here are just trainees, it's not a very fair battle."

"But they were insulting Auntie. No oneinsults Auntie in front of me. _No one._" The little boy said vehemently.

Summer smiled. "You love her very much, don't you?"

"Always," he said unabashedly. His tone turned slightly challenging, as if daring her to criticize him. "I'm proud of her, too. Why wouldn't I be?" He was satisfied when she assured him that she was not questioning his pride for his auntie. Then he shifted from foot to foot. "I don't think she'd like me attacking people because of her, though," he confessed. "She said that I should never ever start a fight and control my temper as much as possible. She says it's bad to be a fighter for no reason. So, I guess I'm sorry for losing control."

Summer was pleased. If only a few others of her trainees were like this. "You're still a little kid. I'm sure she doesn't expect you to be perfect all the time."

"_She _is," he said, almost worshipfully. Then he shrugged. "Well, thank you, Miss Vines. I promise to try not to let it happen again."

"All right." A thought occurred to her then. "Why were you watching us in the first place, anyway?" she asked. "Scoping out the competition?"

The little boy suddenly seemed very nervous. "Uh—oh—no reason. I was just…curious. Yeah. That's it. Bye!" He ran off.

Summer resolved to keep an eye on Quicksilver's nephew from now on—which proved a very good thing as they years passed. Now, he was seven. The time of him having to choose what his path in life was approaching. Although she did not have so much effect on him – she knew it'd be hopeless to wish for the kind of influence his aunt or his parents had – she knew he counted her as a friend and, even if nothing came out of it, even if he choo\se to become a thief in the end, she had made the decision a little bit harder.

* * *

In a very different part of Brightvale, another seven-year-old was struggling with a similar decision on his own.

Harry Windsor didn't show it on his face – he wiped all traces of conflict out of it, as all rich kids must do if they wanted to survive their crapsack world of glitter and money. Indeed, this was not a case for frustration, and if he _wasn't _faced with this mad choice he would've been probably pacing back and forth impatiently, just as his friend, Ebony, was doing. His heavily pregnant mom, Grace, shook her head at the two of them. "Look at you boys! Sulking around the garden like two children watching the clock on Christmas until it's time to open the presents. No," she told her son sternly. "We're not going to open them early this year."

Ebony pouted, but kept his eyes on the road. "Whatever, Mum."

"Really, you two. What's the problem?"

"Nothing," Harry quipped. "We're just waiting for something…someone."

"And who would that be?"

"Emerald," Ebony said distractedly. "She's going to stay in her cousin's house until after Christmas. We're going to have so much _fun_! She had to go back to Richmond last year, and last time I saw her she said she'd never built a snowman or played in a snowball fight properly with friends before. Of course, there isn't any snow _now, _but we're really really hoping for some soon. Too bad Ivy and her siblings aren't here. They'll be so jealous when they hear that they've missed her just because of some ski trip." He paused, his ears pricking up. "Wait! I think I hear something!"

"You really have your ears fine-tuned for the sound of her carriage?" Grace said indecorously. "You must miss her a _lot._" Ebony stuck his tongue out at her, and then ran off to go check out if his suspicions were right. Harry lagged behind. "Are you all right, hon?" Grace asked, noticing he hadn't chased off after Ebony.

"I kinda have a question."

"A question?" She raised her eyebrows, silently adding, _A question that he doesn't want Ebony to hear. _"Okay, Harry, shoot. I'll answer it if I can."

"How did you end up like…that?" he asked. "I mean, you're not like any other lady in Uptown. You're not, er, obsessed with fashion –" like his own mother –"And you don't follow all your husband's orders. You don't mind what anyone tells you how you should act," he said admiringly, almost bashfully. He always liked Ebony's mother, who was always pretty and kind and clever and brave.

She chuckled and leaned down next to him. "I suppose I've been extremely lucky, in many cases," she mused. "When I was a little girl, my nanny taught me how to defend myself." _Using a frying pan. _"They fired her soon after that, but I always kept her lessons in mind. Figuring out my parents didn't truly love me was tricky," she admitted. "I always so wanted their approval—but if they wanted what was best for me, they wouldn't force me to go against my very nature and doll up and act plastic all the time. Them sending me to the Academy was the last straw, and I kinda went all-out after that. Especially when I met a certain someone there," she said, her eyes gleaming in nostalgia. "Ebony could tell you more about it."

"But how come you can rule Master Adonai?" Harry questioned.

"My defending skills," she said wryly. "And the fact that he has nothing I care about to threaten me with. He would never dare hurt Ebony, and frankly, he's the only thing I love in this house."

"What about your new kid?"

"Oh, well." For a moment, a flash of nervousness appeared in Grace's face, but it was gone in an instant. "I'll worry about that when it happens." Suddenly, she frowned. "Why the sudden interest on my independence, Harry?"

"Uh, no reason," he mumbled. "I was just curious." Because Grace Adonai was lucky. She had a freedom few people in Uptown ever had, and it was clear that she was very happy with it. While his friends might manage to do without it – heck, he was under the impression that Ebony enjoying manipulating the rules sometimes – he was sure he couldn't. He liked them, but he wasn't _like _them. If he was perfectly, perfectly honest, what he wanted to do deep within himself was just to get _away _from Uptown, once and for all. Even joining the Uptown Guard didn't cut it with him.

Luckily, he'd found a certain loophole in the Book. It never said _which _Guard he had to join. All that's left to be decided, he supposed, was whether or not he had enough guts to use it.

Suddenly, there was a shriek of laughter nearby. Harry grinned. He knew that laugh. "Thanks!" he called to Grace as he ran to greet Emerald. And Grace smiled wistfully as she watched after him, remembering another Windsor who once longed to be free.

Neither she nor the child knew that someone had been eavesdropping.

* * *

Masila frowned wearily at the maps adorning her office. Her fingers traced little red spots on the maps, which were becoming more and more frequent these past months. _Damn it, _she thought. _They're planning something. _Terrorist attacks that she was almost certain her Guild was not responsible for were becoming more common by the day, and she knew that at one point she would have to put a stop to it. _Not that I want to do those idiot guards' jobs, _she thought ruefully as she rubbed her eyes. But she knew that at some point, they would get angry. They would blame her—and her thieves. Who knows, maybe they'll become desperate enough to bring back the old hang-a-criminal rule, something she did _not _want to happen.

It had taken her a full nine months to gain an audience with that stuffy old king and debate about it, and had taken even longer still to prove her point. She had ended up pretending to me a sweet lady wanting advice from the oh-so-wise king whom he eventually became fond of, and then getting 'caught' stealing something and being 'hanged'. King Hagan was so distressed that he had put a stop to it at once. All in all, it had been one of her most successful, if not trying, missions. She did not want to repeat the process again.

She glanced at the clock and almost sighed with relief. Half-past three. During her early years as a Guild Leader, Marie, who knew better than anyone her workaholic tendencies, began forcing her to eat and sleep at certain times. At first, she had been indignant over it – _she _was the elder sister, after all, as well as the Guild Leader – but after she nearly collapsed at one meeting, she decided she couldn't bear to hear her sibling's 'I told you so' another time and obeyed the regime. Now, she rather looked forward to her little breaks.

She went to the Guild Hall, a flourishing place full of people. Most of the group members nodded at her respectfully, and as always, she felt a secret rush of self-satisfaction. _Don't let it get to you, _she told herself. Sometimes, though, she couldn't help it. It was difficult to forget the days in Terror Mountain, when she was the village's oddity. _That's all behind you now. _The fact was a bittersweet one, she had to admit—she didn't like being stared at, and yet at the time, she still had Kanrik and Layeela with her.

"Hey, Quicksilver!"

"Madam Baker," Masila acknowledged her sister.

Marie smirked at her. "Looking for this?"

Masila blinked and touched her neck where, sure enough, a certain family necklace was missing. Her eyes narrowed. "Did you drug my cookies again?"

"Nope," her sister replied. "Swiped it when you were talking to Master Serpent."

Masila made a mental note never to trust that sneaky Hissi again. "I _will _get it back within the week, you know."

"Don't expect me to make it easy for you."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Masila said. She smiled slightly at the other occupants of the table—a handsome lupe with warm gypsy eyes and a Xweetok that, despite it all, still had the grace and poise of her heritage. "How's Hanso?"

"Running around the kingdom again," Lizzie sighed. "At least Kayley's with him."

"Ah, Miss Responsible," said Marie fondly. "One of the best ideas you've ever had, 'Sila." Her sister nodded in acknowledgement. A few months ago, it occurred to her that if the kids were going to have to work together (and although she focused more on individualism, she knew at one point they would _have _to), she thought it'd be beneficial for them to at least get to know each other.

She _had _been worried about Kayley—as far as she could tell, the only person she'd ever played with near her own age was Alex, but he was still barely a baby and not allowed yet to go with her to the meeting. Luckily, after a rather interesting argument about pickpockets and bubbles, and one near-fatal fight involving lollipops, she and Hanso Laron had became an unbreakable pair. "If only they weren't so…eager," Lizzie added. Masila winced, remembering numerous incidents in which those two thought they could handle things on their own. They were skilled, that was already apparent, but not so much that she would ever willingly give them responsibility. They were only toddlers, after all.

"Could have been worse," Marie said. "I mean, imagine if they didn't like each other at all." The table shuddered at the thought. While two of them united was a good thing (albeit a little too much of it) them separated and bickering was even worse. Masila could already imagine all the havoc it'd cause, with the rivalry and the fights and the chaos.

Lizzie added, much more cheerfully, "She's been influencing him quite a bit, you know—today, he found one of my lost earrings using the 'detective skills' she taught him."

"Not that it doesn't go the other way,"Peter piped up. "If I recall correctly, last time it was Kayley egging on Hanso to do a prank."

"That's sure to please her mother," Masila said. They both snickered. "Speaking of kids," Masila continued airily, "There was something I wanted to talk to you about Sam."

Marie frowned. "Did he play with his dagger? Because I _told _you, Masila, getting him a dagger for his birthday was not the greatest stroke of inspiration, Richard agrees with me but he's too sweet to say anything, and-"

"Not that. Though on a side-note, Sammy is perfectly capable with bearing a dagger by himself. It's just…" For a moment, Masila seemed a little uncomfortable. Her voice turned a little lower, so only those near her could hear it. "These past few weeks, I've been getting the impression that he might not want to follow up on the _family business…_"

Marie offered her a tight smile. "Baking?"

Masila rolled her eyes. "Oh, you know what I mean!"

"Sila, just go on and say 'stealing', it's not a bad word-"

"But _not _saying it is exactly how I keep who I am a secret," she told them. "You'd do well to follow it. One of the reasons they suspect me is because they know you're a thief-"

"Former thief," Marie corrected.

"Yes, and I supposed you hired someone else to swipe my lovely necklace?"

Marie laughed. "Okay, whatever. I'm still a _little _bit of a thief. But honestly, Sila, I don't think you've got anything to worry about Sammy not wanting to join. As we _all _know, he worships his lovely Auntie. He's not going to want to disappoint you."

"Is that all the reason he'd join? Not to disappoint me?" Masila's fingers drummed on the table.

"And because he loves adventure," Peter supplemented. "I mean, honestly, can you picture Samuel Evans working as a blue-collar or scholar?" In spite of themselves, they all smiled at the thought. "Nah. I'm pretty sure he'll go along with you."

"Being a thief isn't the _only _job that offers adventure," Masila said.

"There aren't a lot of jobs that do," Marie pointed out reasonably. "Unless you're talking about being a guard, there's almost next to nothing that-"

"That's _exactly _what I'm talking about, Marie."

Dead silence. The adults looked at each other, frowning.

Then: "I don't believe it," Lizzie declared staunchly. "More than a few people would see it as a betrayal of the Guild and his family, and like Marie said earlier, he absolutely adores you."

"It shouldn't be _about _me," Masila said, exasperated. "He has to choose for himself. Besides, it's not like I don't support non-thief ambitions. Or have you forgotten what this Guild is all _about_?"

"Helping each other and bettering ourselves," Lizzie said distractedly. "Yes, Masila, we all know of your efforts. You convinced the parents of – who was that girl again? – Juliet Capulet to not sign her up for thieving-"

"Hey," she said defensively, "That girl was way too sweet to become a thief."

"I take it her twin was not so pleased when he heard the news of their forthcoming separation, though," Marie commented. Masila shrugged helplessly. "And you haven't had any luck on Razor Medici's mother-"

"Oh, come, I've still been trying. Can't that fool see he can be a brilliant healer?"

"Anyway," Lizzie continued. "Even then, I can't see Sam becoming a guard. He wouldn't know at all what he's getting into, and it's like a complete flip on all that he's ever known."

"Not that that stopped you, didn't it, Liz?" Peter asked quietly.

Lizzie smiled at her husband. "Well, if one's daring enough and has someone who can help him on the other side, perhaps," she conceded. She shook her head. "Besides Father, William, and Grace, there wasn't anyone in Uptown who had truly been holding me back, anyway."

"Really? Only your father and brother?" Peter sipped his drink thoughtfully. "No other family?"

"Heavens, no. All the rest were so _stuffy_."

"That might have changed by now."

"What do you-?" Suddenly, Lizzie crossed her arms. "Have you been spying on Uptown? You do remember that I'm from Meridell, don't you?"

"Of course I remember. But when I heard that a family called Windsor moved to Brightvale, I couldn't help but check it out."

Lizzie nearly spluttered out her tea. Masila and Marie made moves to duck just in case. "W-what? Not-"

"Not your immediate family," he assured her. "A guy called Albert and a lady called Victoria."

Lizzie wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Cousin Al, huh? Last time I saw him, he said I should be locked in the kitchen until I found how to act like a _real _lady. I don't really want to meet any woman he's married, either—I'm guessing she'd either be weak or an obsessive 'perfect-family' type."

"The latter," he informed her. She wasn't impressed. "But they do have a son around Sammy's age."

"And he's _not _just like his father?"

"Hardly, if what you say is true. I watched him earlier today. He seemed perfectly willing to let a little girl take control of the games his group played, _and _he was pretty clear he admired one of his friend's mother. He's a little lonely though, I'll grant you that," Peter added. "A free spirit. Reminds me of you, in a way. And….I think he's planning something."

This time, Lizzie really did spit out all her drink. Masila and Marie glanced at each other from under the table. Shakily, she said, "Is he going to run away?"

"I'm not sure. But," he mused, "I think you should check it out." They glanced at their leader – who was slowly coming back up the table – for permission.

"Oh, for Fyora's sake, you don't need to ask if you want to visit your family," Masila said crossly. "Just remember not to say anything that would endanger the Guild." Lizzie smiled gratefully at her, but Masila meant what she said. She saw no difference between Lizzie's cruel, tradition-bound family to the Capulets and Montagues who were constantly pushing and pulling each other for power in the Guild. She had no trouble accepting Lizzie in the Guild one day a long time ago, when she begged that she not be turned in—even when some of the members had looked at her rather resentfully for months afterwards, knowing what they could have used the bounty for. She did not leave anybody behind.

The clock struck four. She sighed. "Well, duty calls. Good luck, Lizzie. And Marie…we'll talk about Sammy some other time."

* * *

The next day, Lizzie Laron, formerly Elizabeth Windsor, stepped through the Uptown gates. Because of her fancy clothes (one of Masila's costumes, which she had loaned) none even suspected she wasn't just some respectable rich lady out to take a stroll. But her stomach was flipping over. She wished Peter was here, or Hanso: She would have dearly loved their familiar comfort. But her husband had refused. _You have to face this on your own, Liz, _he had said in a pained voice. _We'd only hold you back if we come. _Hanso certainly did not want to be held back from another adventure with Kayley.

She walked alone, not entirely sure which house was which. If it had been her brother she was seeing, the house with be modelled exactly like her old one—but she had very few memories of cousin Albert's house. Now that she thought of it, she didn't remember many houses besides her own. Even Grace's house she had only visited once; though that was a moot point, since even if there was any chance that she would have been here, the mansion would have been modelled like her husband's. A familiar little ache in her heart aroused.

Yes. Grace would definitely have a husband now, probably one that she did not love. She might not even be 'Grace' anymore.

Lizzie couldn't help but think their situations could have been entirely reversed, had it been she who had insisted her friend jump out the school window first on the night of their escape.

"Who do you think she is, do you reckon?"

Lizzie whipped around, but saw nobody there. She frowned as she went closer. She peered in to bushes and looked over the walls. Nothing.

"I don't know," someone whispered back. "Are you sure she's not from here?"

"I've never seen her in my life, and trust me, I know most of the people."

"Is anyone here?" Lizzie called out. Silence. "I could use some help, you know," she said, as she walked around. "I'm looking for someone here. Family." For a while, it was quiet. She was just about to give up when-

"What family?" said the two voices.

"Windsor," she replied, deciding to be honest. She could hardly get anywhere by deceiving whoever these people are, after all. "I want to check up on someone there. Victoria and Albert Windsor's son. Do you happen to know where they live?"

"What do you want with Harry?" said a girl's voice. It had a defensive edge.

"Just check up on him," she promised. "Like said, I'm his relative."

"Is he in trouble?"

Momentarily, Lizzie had to wonder what kind of relative she had, with everyone making assumptions that she wanted to punish him. "No. Really, all I want to do is to see him."

"Should we believe her?" said the boy's voice.

There was a pause. "Guess so," said the girl. "Maybe she could cheer Harry up. I've noticed he's been looking kinda odd lately."

And with that, two Usuls – children, Lizzie realized – swooped out of the tree. She stared. "What were you doing over there?"

"Watching you," the boy said carelessly. He had dark, midnight eyes and brown hair, and wore a suit she thought would be appropriate for businessmen, but certainly not little boys. Strangely, he looked very familiar, though she honestly could not tell why. Especially when he flashed her a mischievous grin. "Usuls are prone to trees, especially if they don't want to be seen." Without warning, they turned around in unison and began striding down the path. "Well, come on!" he called when she saw her lagging behind. She quickly caught up, a little embarrassed.

The girl was a little more polite. She had dark, curly hair, with huge green eyes that gazed at her curiously. _Royalty, _Lizzie thought without mulling it over. She had learned to spot the types of different rich kids when she was younger, and the girl had the bearing of nobility. "So, you're new around here?" she asked solemnly.

"In a way," Lizzie admitted.

"Who exactly _are _you?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer that." After all these years, she still had a bounty on her head, and she did not want some little girl – who she could freely say was very intimidating – be the one to blow her cover. "I just heard a bit of news of this side of my family, the first in years really, and I guess I got a little curious. I'm not going to harm him or anything."

"You better not," the little girl said coolly. "Harry is our friend."

"And we can be very, very unpleasant if someone harms our friends," the boy agreed. He stopped by a brick-blue mansion. "Well, here you are. Good luck in getting in, by the way." They both settled down in the garden bench to watch. They seemed to expect she'd have trouble. Squaring her shoulders, she marched up to front door and gave it a polite rap.

Instantly, a snarling cook greeted her. "Whaddaya want?"

"Um." Lizzie shrank back. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the two kids smirking. She forced herself to calm down. "I'm here to see someone of the Windsor family. Master Harry, I believe is his name."

"Harry," the cook scoffed. "I disliked the kid the moment I met 'im, I did."

"Why?" she asked, startled. "What did he do?"

"Took one look at me and began wailin' about how he wanted the _other _cook that they fired," he sniffed. "As if _my _cookin' isn't good enough! Well, let the big lump try to cook 'is own dinner, I wanted to say."

Lizzie blinked, reading in-between the lines. "So he once genuinely liked a servant," she murmured.

"Quit mumblin', lass, I got a job to do. If ya hadn't noticed, we're preparin' for Christmas, so unless ya got something you really wanna say-"

"I told you," Lizzie snapped, trying to keep her temper under control, "I want to talk to Harry. Please let me inside."

"No can do, girl. He's shut up in 'is room anyway, punishment of somethin' or another, prentendin' to snowball a lady, I've heard." Behind her, Lizzie heard an indignant yelp, and she guessed it was the little girl who did it. "'Sides, can't let nobody in who ain't his family."

"I'm family," she protested.

"Really? Ya know, when I came here the folks told me to memorize the family tree. No point, I'd be wantin' to say, but we 'ad to do it anyway. So how about you tell me your name, Miss, and if you're on then maybe I'll let you in. 'Kay?"

It was one of the most miserable moments of Lizzie's life. She was being barred from a house she might have always been welcomed to by a cook. She sighed disgustedly, and then leaned in so that unwanted listeners couldn't hear. "Elizabeth Windsor," she said clearly. The cook's face changed.

"Well, I'll be," he said, with a hint of awe on his voice. "Ya really do exist." He took a good long look at her, and then began shutting the door.

"Wait!" she shrieked. "You said that if I told you who I am, you'd let me in."

"I said I _might _let you in. Sorry, girl, but the Master had given the servants orders that if any someone come claimin' the name, we were to slam the door on her face." And that's exactly what he did.

Lizzie yelled, "Don't think locked doors are going to keep me out!" She took a pin from her pocket and began picking the lock—only for electricity to shoot up her arm and, for a moment, blur her mind. She shrieked and stepped back. Comically, her hair stood perfectly straight on her head. She heard the children laughing hysterically behind her. _Calm down, Liz, _she told herself. She took a deep breath and looked at the windows. To her dismay, she spotted a few tell-tale wires that showed her they were also filled with electricity. _Well, they certainly updated._

For the rest of the afternoon, Lizzie Laron tried her very hardest to find a way to get inside the mansion. She tried using the servants' quarters. She tried hacking at a loose lip of brick. She even tried going down the chimney like a really, really weird Santa Claus. Nothing. She doubted the people inside even realized that someone was trying to break in. Finally, as the sun was beginning to set and sweat was dripping off her, she admitted defeat.

"Stupid mansion," she muttered. She turned around to see the two kids still watching her in amusement. She glared at them when she saw they were holding a bag of popcorn.

"Does this happen often here?" the girl wondered. "Crazy ladies coming in and trying to break into Harry's house?"

"Not very often, no," the boy replied. "However, it was very entertaining watching it today."

"It shall be one of my most cherished memories." They both sniggered.

"Ha, ha. Very funny," Lizzie said sarcastically. "Thanks, kids. You've been a big help."

"Hey, it's not like we could've done anything anyway," the girl said.

The boy frowned thoughtfully. "Well, not _now _at least. If you were a little older, Em, I'm sure they'd be scraping their knees to get you in there."

Lizzie rolled her eyes and started walking away.

"Hey, lady! Before you go, can we ask you something?" the boy said.

"I'm not inclined to talk to you right now."

"Oh, come on. We're just innocent little kids. _Please_?" They give her the cutest faces they could muster.

"Fine. But only one question."

"Who exactly _are _you?" It was the same thing the girl had asked earlier, but they thought asking the weird lady later, when she's tired and didn't have energy to fight back their persuasive powers, would weaken her. Besides, after the big show they put on, they had been infinitely more curious with it; they'd been speculating for hours. Who in Neopia would want to talk to Harry so much?

She paused, and then sighed, thinking that hiding her identity with them was useless now. "Elizabeth Windsor." She turned around, not noticing at all how their eyes widened. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've gotta get out of here-"

"Wait!" the boy called.

"What now?"

"You're really _the _Elizabeth Windsor?" he asked. "The only rich kid ever in history to run away? You're not pulling our leg?"

She raised her eyebrows. She had no idea she was so famous. "Yes."

They glanced at each other. "One moment," he said, and they huddled together in some sort of secret conversation. Words like "Mum" and "Academy" and "Tradition" floated up, but Lizzie didn't pay any mind to them. Finally, they nodded to each other and separated. "We've decided we can help you."

"Can you?" Lizzie didn't sound convinced. "How?"

"That's a secret right now," the girl said. "But if you come here in the morning tomorrow, we promise we'll help you see Harry."

"And why should I do that?"

"Well, lady, it's either that or accept defeat," the boy said. "And if I'm correct, you _really _hate doing the latter." Lizzie squirmed. They were right. "So we meet up around here at around six a.m. Agreed?"

"You're going to wake up _early_?" the girl gasped in mock-shock. He punched her in the arm. For a moment, they suddenly look like two other best friends Lizzie knew.

She sighed. "Fine."

* * *

Seven p.m. Dinner time. Masila rose up, glad to have an excuse to leave her work. Those…rebels were starting to get on her nerves. They've remained as elusive as ever, but the damage they were doing to the local villagers was great. If she didn't stop them soon, the guards would start noticing. And they would start blaming. She huffed as she shoved the papers away to a disorganized pile. Next week, she'd organize some search parties to find the idiots who started this whole mess and crush them. Satisfied with the plan, she made her way to the dining hall—

Only to be slammed back to her seat by two little furballs of energy.

"Masila! Masila!"

"Ow."

"Sorry," Hanso and Kayley apologized. "Marie said we can come and get you," Hanso explained. "You're late, and she said maybe you had forgotten." Masila glanced at the clock. Barely two minutes had passed. She could picture her sister's face clearly, smug at a prank well done. She _really _had to get that necklace back and kick her pride down a few knots.

"Well, thanks, kiddies," she said lightly. "What've you been up to?"

"A pirate ship stopped by, and my dad let us look at it," Hanso burst in proudly. "Master Jacques and Master Garin were there!"

"They taught us how to swim and everything!"

"They told us their adventures in Maraqua!"

"They let us breathe underwater!"

"They gave us candy!"

Ah. That explained it. Someday soon, she was going to have to have a word with those pirate boys about how they stuffed the little kids with sweets whenever they saw them and how that could be a very, very bad thing. She was about to let them escort her to the Guild Hall…when another kid sped inside.

"Guys! You can't run in the halls or you might bump into Auntie-"

"Too late, Sam," Masila said, shaking her head. "Don't worry, I don't blame you. Rather hard to keep them under control when they're under candy influence." He laughed, and then hugged her. "How was your day, sweetheart?"

"Good. Dad had a bit of extra dough left, so we made some bread and I helped Mum distribute it to some people in the Guild. They really liked it. And it's okay—we only gave it to a few select members who promised not to tell, so no one can accuse you of favouritism, Auntie."

"As always, Sam, you're one step ahead," she praised him. He nearly glowed with pride.

"Come on!" Kayley said, tugging at her sleeve. "We want food! We want food!"

"Sugar-crazed," she diagnosed. "Best to humour them for now. Come on, Sammy-boy."

The table was nearly full when they all crowded on to their places. Kayley and Hanso demanded to be served first, and they got their wish. "Asparagus?" Hanso whined. His friend, on the other hand, lost no time in eating hers up.

"You did say you wanted food to be served _quick_," Peter admonished him. "Besides, your mom was busy today, and I'm hardly a stellar cook."

"That reminds me, Liz," Masila said. "How did your little family visit go?"

Lizzie grunted, glaring at her plate and for a moment looking as moody as her son. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You haven't given up, have you?" Marie asked.

"Of course not. I'm trying again tomorrow. With some…help." She said the last word as if it disgusted her.

"Done!" Hanso announced.

"Sammy," Masila said, but her nephew was already looking under the table.

He shook his head. "Nah, he didn't throw it down this time. I _do _think I saw him passing to it to Kayley, though."

The little girl stuck her tongue out at him. "Snitch!"

"None of that," Lizzie began, but it was too late. The two little kids were already chanting.

Sammy put his hands over his face. "Oh, the two kiddies are about to attack me! Whatever shall I do?"

"Perhaps a story will help calm you down," Marie suggested. Instantly, the two kids stopped and looked at her with begging eyes. "A story by Masila."

"Excuse me?" the lady huffed, spreading cheese on bread. "I don't know any stories."

"Tell us about how you became the Guild Leader!" Hanso requested.

"Yes! That one!"

"Again?"

"Uh-huh. It's our favourite."

"No. It's entirely too gruesome for toddlers."

"Please, Auntie?" Sam spoke up. "It's my favourite, too." He smirked slightly at her, knowing full-well that if he was the one who asked, she would never be able to deny him. Masila sighed. She spoiled him shamelessly, and he knew it.

"Well—if you insist," she said with reluctance.

* * *

"In a night colder and darker than usual in Terror Mountain, a gang of thieves broke in to caves. At first, they did not see anything of value—the treasures of the place were not jewels or coins, and back then, that's all they thought were worth valuing. Yet they did not want to the spark the anger of Galem, the Guild Leader back then, if he thought they did not try. And so they took the thin, crumbling scrolls they found there and wrapped in a box, travelling at the fastest speed they could muster to present it to him. I was there when they showed it."

"You were his friend, weren't you, Auntie?"

"Of a sort," she replied. "Though I knew back then that he was not fit to rule the Thieves' Guild." Out of unspoken agreement, she and Marie decided not to tell Sam the more _graphical _bits of the tale. And besides….even now, she did not truly know how to feel about Galem. It was not true, as rumour had it, that she loathed him. On the contrary, she remembered a few occasions when he was genuinely quite sweet. And yet she recalled even more memories when he was nothing but cold and ruthless.

"One of the thieves who could read the Ancient Languages said that they were about something called the 'Heart of the Mountain,' which Galem considered to be a very precious gem. However, I noticed that the thief also mentioned _power_, and thought it perhaps much more than it seemed. Quickly, Galem established a reward for the person able to retrieve such an item. Most went recklessly adventuring them out for themselves. Kanrik, a friend of mine whom I thought to be a good leader, accepted my advice and went off to search for a more experienced person."

"Why didn't you go with him?"

Masila gave Hanso a thin smile. "I wasn't allowed—I was, um, rather high up, and I couldn't leave my position."

She gave them a short description of what happened next—how Kanrik met Hannah, how they travelled to the Lost Desert, and – though neither she nor the explorer were ever sure _why_ – how he betrayed her. He found a tomb which, apparently, held the key of finding the Heart of the Mountain. "Doing some research, I found out that it was actually a terrible monster. One that, if used properly, could help us defeat Galem and rule the Guild." She left out the word _kill. _To be quite honest, she was not sure what she would have done if things had gone according to plan. She didn't want to _murder _anyone, but she knew that if he was alive he would never allow Kanrik or anyone else who hadn't his blood to sit on the throne.

She took a deep breath. The next part she was not so proud of. "Before I could think things through _rationally, _however, one of the thieves reported to me that Kanrik had allied himself with Hannah. Not knowing much at the time…I was afraid that he was getting second thoughts. I urged him to strike quickly, and the Bringer of the Night was released—but it did not work for us. It fought and fought until Galem managed to make a deal with it." A clever move, she had to concede. "Once it was pacified, Galem moved to kill Kanrik; I interfered, telling him to banish him from the Thieves' Guild."

"A fate worse than death," Kayley murmured.

"To clear myself of suspicion, I gave him what was supposedly a poison. In truth, it was a potion I had discovered; one that would bring the semblance of death to a person for a few hours." It was not the best plan leaving him in the snow, but it was all she could do to convince them to leave his cloak on. It was still risky, but Kanrik was mountain-born—she knew he could survive long lengths of bitter cold. "Later, he found Hannah in a cave and allied with her once more, along with a friend she made with the new species: Armin, a Bori.

"It seemed that the Heart of the Mountain was the one that was keeping this species alive all these years. The key to saving them was uniting the Heart with a necklace that Hannah found earlier. Unfortunately, Galem and the Bringer went in at exactly the same time. Galem only saw the the jewel's worth in the market. The Bringer saw vengeance; he summoned the ice sculptures that resided there to kill the thieves, the Bori, and Kanrik's group. I went and fought with the sculptures, but I also observed them. Armin fought with his kind, Hannah made for the Heart, and Kanrik began a battle with Galem. And then-"

After all these years, she could still see the scene quite clearly.

_The clang of metal on metal, the sharp crackling of the ice, the groans as thief after thief fell. She stayed to one side, being of help if she could, but her main purpose was to see what was happening between Kanrik and Galem. The two were engaged in a fiery duel, one that could only end in death. Kanrik ducked, missing Galem's blade by only a hair. Galem dodged a stab and swung. He managed to graze him on the arm, opening up a bloody wound. Masila winced. _

_Then Galem held a blade to Kanrik. Masila watched as her friend used all his strength to keep it from touching his skin. The only way he could escape this was if he managed to dislodge it without being hit and responding with a fatal blow, a move that would be very, very difficult to manage. But she did not lose faith. _

_Come on._

_Come on._

_Come-_

_And just before the fatal strike, they both vanished. Just like that._

_Gone._

_Masila blinked, not sure exactly what happened. _

_Apparently, she was not the only one distracted. "Kanrik!" called an Usul she knew now was Hannah. Unfortunately, that called the attention of the Bringer. Hannah shrieked as she ran away from the monstrous blade just in time. "Armin!" The little Bori shot stones at the beast, trying to help his friend, but thanks to the distraction of the aftermath of Kanrik's battle, Hannah was too far away for her to make a quick save. If Armin was going to live, he would have to fight for his life extensively, and one look at him told Masila he simply did not have what it took to beat the giant. The axe flashed to his head-_

_And without thinking about it, Masila stood in front of him and parried. It was a thoughtless move, and painful, but it saved the Bori's life. "Need some help, sweetheart?" she asked breathlessly. The child – for that was all that he was – opened his mouth and closed it. "Go," she told him. "Help your friend. I'll take care of this guy." _

_He found his voice. "No. You can't handle that thing alone."_

"_I can hold him off longer than you can." To demonstrate, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away. A second more and the Bringer would have pounded him to mush. The monster, deciding that they weren't worth it, went off to get Hannah with terrifying speed. _

"_You have a point," he conceded. _

_Masila's brain worked overload, trying to find a way out of this. The ice! She narrowed her eyes in concentration. "Okay, hon, you said you wanted to help me?"_

"_Yeah." _

"_We're going to have to play a little ice hockey. Go down to your hands and knees." Armin did so. "Now, whatever you do, don't get up from the ice." And she pushed him. _

_Her aim was perfect. The Bori slid under the Bringer's legs and slammed in to Hannah, knocking her out of the way just in time and pushing the necklace in to the Heart of the Mountain right into place. To Masila's fascination, the jewel began glowing. Red beams shot from it. Behind her, she could hear the Keeper of Time calling the Boris to attack and help their brethren. They came upon the Bringer; the monster, roaring in anger, slammed his weapon on the Heart of the Mountain._

_And immediately turned to ice. Armin shot a stone at the would-be destroyer, and the sculpture shattered into tiny pieces. _

After that incident, she and Hannah traded stories. The girl, though wary at first, quickly warmed to her. Apparently she knew Jacques and Garin, who had been telling Hannah stories about her for quite a while. She told Masila all she remembered. Even years later, Masila could not guess what had Kanrik been thinking when he said she had betrayed him. Perhaps it was to earn some pity points with Hannah, as the miffed explorer had suggested ("I can't believe he lied to me _twice_! And I didn't notice!"). He didn't _really _think she'd sell him out, right? Of course, she hadn't told him about the potion – she had discovered it while he way away, and there was simply no time. But they were childhood friends, and he _liked _her. He didn't think she took that all for granted, right? The question still haunted her from time to time.

She didn't tell that to the children, though. In fact, she completely skipped over the part. "Our troubles didn't end there," she told them. Soon after she and Hannah started talking, the explorer had collapsed. Armin ran for help, and the Timekeeper told her gravely that the Snow Faerie could provide the cure.

_Masila walked, barely being able support Hannah with her shoulder. Still, she carried her like a woman possessed. The position she was in…even the way Hannah looked like now…reminded her too much of another little girl whose life had depended on her. She had failed that time. _

_She would not fail again. _

_The Time-keeper and Armin insisted on escorting her, and she was too concerned for Hannah to protest much. Personally, she thought the child should have stayed put. They had to stop at least two times to make sure Armin didn't get carried off of the Mountain by the harsh wind. "Jeez," the young Bori had said. "The weather sure has changed. I'm not even sure I'm glad I woke up."_

"_It's not always that way," Masila huffed as she crunched through the snow, feeling defensive of her Mountain. "You came in a very bad time. Snow storms are frequent this time of year."_

"_If you say so, lady."_

"_Strange," said the Time-keeper suddenly. He was standing outside the famous igloo. "Taelia never leaves her door open like this." In competition to what? Masila was about to say sarcastically, but she realized that would not be a good idea in this situation. She heard him gasp as he entered. She flinched. "My oh my. What happened here?"_

"_My work, I'm afraid," Masila said regretfully. The two Boris stared at her, mouths hanging open. "Well, I didn't actually _do _it. But I paid the guy to. So she wouldn't interfere with our plans. It wasn't completely my idea!"_

"_We'll talk later," the Time-keeper decided. He bit his lip. "I hope I remember the right spell." He waved his staff and muttered something under his breath. The ice broke open, and Taelia awoke, gasping for breath. "My lady," he said, bowing before her respectfully. Armin copied his position; as did Masila, after a while, though she never had a very high opinion of the faerie. Sure, she assisted the odd freezing tourist, but those who were residents in the Mountain that were starving to death? When the plague hit? Where was she __**then**__? "We beg for your help in healing our friend." _

_After being informed of the situation, the faerie nodded and grabbed something from her cupboard. She blinked at the angry red mark on Hannah's arm. "You brought her to me just in time," she informed them, pouring a crystalline substance (which looked suspiciously like water to Masila) on Hannah's arm. It worked, at least; Hannah bolted upright as soon as the liquid touched her. The lady smiled at her kindly. "You are very lucky to be alive, young Hannah. I have lifted the curse, but this mark will remain with you forever."_

_Hannah rubbed her arm. "No prob," she said airily. "It'll be like a free tattoo." She grinned mischievously. "I'm not even eighteen yet! Garin and Jacques will be __**so**_ _jealous!" The faerie forced a laugh. "Um, Snow Lady, can I ask you something else?"_

"_Of course."_

_She and Masila glanced at each other. "Two people disappeared from the Mountain earlier, just as they were in the middle of a battle. Do you know what happened to them?"_

_Taelia raised her eyebrows. "I've never heard anything like that happen before. No, I'm afraid not. Are you sure they didn't run away or tumble off a cliff? Perhaps they slipped under ice." _

"_No. They really disappeared."_

"_I'm sorry, Hannah, I don't know. I'll take a look on it. My best guess, I suppose, is that…well, you might find it hard to believe, but the Mountain is a conscious being. It has a Heart, after all." She nodded at the Time-keeper. "Its power is vast and great, and it looks after its children. Perhaps it thought it best that those two were taken."_

_Hannah stared. "So…the Mountain did it?" The Snow Faerie shrugged._

"_That's new," Masila said wryly. In her head, she was in turmoil. Kanrik was supposed to take over the Guild. What was she supposed to do now?_

"Hannah took some time to heal in the Snow Faerie's house, and I decided to stay with her, learning all I could about her adventures with Kanrik. And I pondered on the fate of the Guild."

"_You could do it."_

"_Me?" Masila spluttered. "You're joking."_

"_Why not? You obviously care about it, if you're willing to go through so much to help. And hey, if I was a thief, I'd think you'd be a pretty cool Guild Leader," Hannah said._

"_I don't want power." Or rather, she did not like the person she became when she was full of it._

_She titled her head. "Doesn't that make you an even better candidate?"_

"_Oh, Hannah," she sighed. She did feel responsible for the Thieves' Guild, and whatever happened to it. It went much more than that, actually. They were her __**family**__, right or wrong, good or bad__**. **__They were her entire life for years. And yet, she did not want to be trapped in a life full of intrigue and hiding in the shadows. One thing she had not confessed to anyone (least of all Kanrik, who'd have been crushed) was that right after she her childhood home settled, she'd planned to leave off and see the world. Much as she loved her Mountain and her family, she did not want to be stuck with them forever._

_Still…_

"_Seriously, Masila, it'd be sweet. I know you'll definitely have Garin's and Jacques's vote." She did have a point there. In fact, besides her, none of the thieves held that much sway over the others. It could mean chaos and havoc on who would be in charge if someone didn't step up soon. "And you do have enough experience. I mean, you've been watching Galem and stuff, haven't you?" _

"_I suppose."_

"_Besides," Hannah said, twirling a lock of her long brown hair. "I don't peg you the type to run when someone needs you. And to be quite frank, they need you. Badly."_

"In the end, I accepted," Masila surmised. "I gathered the group together and told them that I was taking over. None of them argued—though Marie, who I had collected from the village, was quite shocked."

"Pftt, can you blame me?" Marie asked. "My bossy older sister was going to be the Leader of the Thieves' Guild, which I happened to be the member of! Excuse me if I was worried you'd abuse your power." And she was right to be worried, Masila thought inwardly. She had been glad for her sister's presence all these years, which counteracted Masila's craving for the Guild's dependence on her. In fact, Masila had decided to focus on doing exactly the opposite—making sure that the members knew how to think for themselves.

"We moved to Brightvale, deciding it'd be nice to have a fresh start somewhere else," Masila continued. It had been tricky to establish themselves, but they did it, finding a cave system (with Hannah's help, of course) to put the hideout in. Masila smiled, allowing herself to take a bit of pride in all that she had done. She had changed the Guild's image, established new rules, created classes for people to know the basics, helped out Lizzie (who eventually became one of her best thieves and spies), and talked her sister out of a _very _bad relationship (though she didn't succeed in convincing her not to marry young). "And here we are."

"Here we are," Marie agreed.

"Here we are," Lizzie and Peter laughed, picking up the two sleeping toddlers.

"Here we are," Sam echoed, feeling a little guilty. His aunt had put the Guild first over her own dreams. How could he do anything less?

* * *

Lizzie Laron paced outside her much-younger cousin's (or however they were related) front door. She did not ask to enter again, knowing what kind of reception she would receive. No. Her agitation was that after about half an hour of waiting, it seemed that she had been stood up – _stood up! _– by a pair of children. Little brats, they were, even though they were kinda cute and, she had to admit, unbelievably smart. Frustrated, she kicked a nearby garbage can.

"Hey!" said the boy's voice behind her.

The girl continued. "That's not very nice."

She put her hands on her hips, not turning around. "It's _not _nice to be kept waiting for half an hour."

"How about if you were kept waiting for, I don't know, _years_?" said a new person. Lizzie stiffened. She knew that voice – sweet and tinkly, yet with a bit of a sarcastic edge – anywhere. "Well, well, well," Grace said wryly as Lizzie spun around. "Look who's come crawling back after over a decade."

"Grace!" She moved forward, but her old friend held up her hand.

"No hugs for me, Liz," she told her.

"Oh." She smiled ruefully. "You're going to be a mother, then?"

"Already am," Grace replied, brushing a hand over the boy's hair. He smirked sardonically at her. She _knew _he looked familiar! "Sorry for being late, hon. It took them quite a while to convince me last night that they were not joking. In fact, the only reason I thought it was real was because my late-sleeper son actually deemed this occasion important enough to wake up early. And then, well," she twirled a lock of her lovely hair, "Beauty takes time."

She rolled her eyes. "Same old Grace. Is that still your name?"

"Well, _technically, _I'm supposed to go by Honey. I married in to colour family-"

"No way! Black?"

"Yep. Very satisfying, ordering him around with a frying pan. Speaking of names…have you been properly introduced to Ebony yet?"

"No. Is that the little devil's name?"

"Lizzie," she reproached. "He's only a _tiny _bit evil. I assure you, he'll only start planning to dominate the kingdom once he's twelve." The boy gave another grin. "And this," Grace continued, laying a hand on the girl's shoulder, "Is Emerald Navarrette, Duchess of Richmond. She frequently visits." The girl gave a tiny curtsy. "You have my word that they're as every bit as trouble-makers as we were.

"Oh, and there's more of us, too," Ebony supplied helpfully. "There's Hawk, and Ivy, and Harley, and Azure (though she's not really a troublemaker), and Harry-"

"Harry," Lizzie remembered. "I need to see him."

"Ah, yes, your lovely two times removed cousin? He's a very sweet boy," Grace said matter-of-factly. Lizzie huffed. She hated it when Grace used the 'I-know-more-than-you' tone. "If a bit rough around the edges. Same yearning for freedom, too."

"It'd also be very nice to have a supportive relative," Emerald piped up.

Ebony nodded. "There's only so much Mum can do. Since you're really related, you could help him."

"If he wants me to," Lizzie promised. "Still, how are we going to get him out from there?"

At that, all three people donned very evil smiles. They were planning something. "Watch and learn, Miss Windsor," Grace said, mimicking one of their old professors. She nodded at Ebony and Emerald. The latter took Lizzie's hand and led her to nearby bushes where they wouldn't be seen. Ebony knocked on the door and darted away. Grace remained standing on the lawn until the cook came out.

"Whaddaya want?" he snapped.

Instantly, Grace fell over. "Oh…."

The cook paled. "Er…Miss? Is there something wrong?"

"The baby is coming!" she shrieked. "I can't get up!"

The man looked horrified. "_What_?"

"Please….help…."

The cook, uncertainly, tripped forwards to give any assistance as he could. That was the moment when Emerald grabbed Lizzie's arm and slipped her inside the house when the cook wasn't looking. "This way," she said in a confident voice. She'd obviously been there many times before. She led Lizzie through a maze of hallways and stairs, until they turned around the corner to a lone room. She knocked on the door.

"Am I free to go now?" said an irritated voice. "Or are you just bringing me food _again_?"

"It's me, Harry."

"Emmy? How'd you get in here?"

"Long story. But I have a relative to see you."

"Not Mum and Dad?"

She snorted. "Of course not. Can you open the door?"

"No," he said mournfully. "They locked me in—they found out that I was going to….um….."

"Run away?" Lizzie guessed.

There was a pause. "Who's that?"

"Your relative. Elizabeth Windsor," Emerald clarified.

Again, there was another long silence. Lizzie could imagine the person's jaw had dropped. Finally, he said, "You're kidding, right?"

"No, it's really her. Eb's Mum recognized her."

"Oh, wow." His tone began to get excited. "I always wanted to meet you. Father _loathes _you, which makes you like my absolute hero. You're like a _legend, _you know, even if you _are _a girl. Not that, you know, that means anything. Just that there aren't a lotta girls here who're as awesome as you. Excepting Grace, of course."

"Ahem."

"And you, Emmy."

"That's better." She frowned. "Harry, did your parents add electricity to this lock?"

"Uh, no. Seemed to think there was no point. Why?"

"Your relative can pick locks."

"Whoa! Where did you learn that?"

"I'm a thief, sweetheart," Lizzie said, using the pin to successfully pick the lock.

A tall, broad Lupe around Sam's age stepped out, wearing a huge grin. "Seriously? That's so cool." For a moment his smile faltered, as if he was thinking about something, but then it returned in full strength. "So, uh, what's the plan?"

"You're my relative. That gives me a responsibility over you, and since you're seven years old – usually when some people in the Thieves' Guild have to make difficult choices – I want to talk. How about I take you out to lunch?"

The Lupe grinned. "That'd be great! Are you going to steal something?"

Lizzie laughed. "I have my own money—and I usually wear a disguise, so most people won't recognize me as a thief."

"Wicked! Can I have one too?"

"I hate to break up this family reunion," Emerald said in a polite tone, "But Eb's mum can't keep up the 'giving-birth' act forever. We really have to get going."

"Won't anyone notice you're gone?" Lizzie asked.

They laughed. There was an awkward silence. "Oh, wait, you're serious?" Harry asked. "Nah. They're keeping me prisoner. As long as I get back before eight for the nightly check-up, I'm safe."

"Good," Emerald said distractedly. "Now _let's go._"

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Harry and Lizzie were strolling through the marketplace, peering at stalls. As soon as they had come out of the house Grace stood up and claimed she was feeling all better. They were still laughing at the cook's stunned face. The seven-year-old looked around excitedly. He'd only ever gone to the Uptown marketplace, and it wasn't anywhere near as fun and as exotic as the one everyone else had gone to. They finally bought some sandwiches from the stalls, and the lady who was running it even gave Harry an extra orange juice. "I never steal from her," Lizzie said fondly, as she spread at the blanket she brought on the grass. "She's way too generous to the poorer folk."

Harry nodded, sipping his juice. "Can I ask you a question, Cousin Elizabeth?"

"I actually go by Lizzie…and I gotta say, hon, it sounds weird you calling me cousin."

"How about 'auntie'?" he suggested. Lizzie smiled, thinking of another seven-year-old who worshipped his aunt.

"Sure. Oh, and go ahead about the question."

"What happened to you all these years?" he asked, biting into the sandwich. "I mean, I know you became a thief, but wouldn't that be kinda lonely doing it alone all the time?"

"I'm hardly alone," Lizzie replied. "I joined the Thieves' Guild—and they became my family. A rowdy, slightly evil family," she conceded. "But family all the same. The Guild leader and her sister took me in immediately. Yes, she's a girl," she told him as he looked at her with widened eyes. "You really ought to be more used to that, you know. And….I got married."

"You did?" He looked delighted. "I have an uncle?"

"Mm-hmm. He's the one who encouraged I should visit you, actually." Inwardly, she had to admit she would have never even thought of going to see Harry if Peter hadn't suggested it. And even then, she might not have had the guts if Masila hadn't shown her support. "You have a cousin, too. Hanso." Lizzie couldn't help but smile as she remembered her son's little outburst earlier that day.

"_You're going again?" the little boy demanded, pouting. "But Mom, Dad will make asparagus again!" He clutched at her knees. "Don't do this to me!"_

"_Oh, get a grip," Kayley sighed, always near._

"_Why are you going to see this Harry guy, anyway? You're __**my **__mom! He has his own!"_

"_Sweetheart," Lizzie sighed, kneeling down so she was face-to-face with him. She had to make this clear—she wanted to help Harry, but she didn't want to make her own son feel bad about it. "He doesn't."_

_Hanso stopped squirming. "He doesn't?" he said in his little-boy voice. For a moment, even Kayley looked interested in this new development. "He doesn't have a mom?"_

"_He has one. But she doesn't love him," Lizzie said. Not many mothers in Uptown do. Even after so many years, she was thankful she was not one of them. _

"_Oh." _

_Hanso thought about it, his face screwed up. "We-ell…I guess I wouldn't mind __**too **__much sharing you. I guess…I guess I'll eat asparagus a little bit more." _

_Lizzie smiled and embraced him. "Thank you, sweetheart." He hugged her back._

_Then Kayley coughed. "That reminds me! Hanso, my mom invited you for dinner. We're having cottage pie. Okay?"_

_Hanso turned around slowly. Fury was on his face. "You kept silent about that all day just so you can torture me, didn't you?"_

_She grinned. That little girl had one heck of a smile—no one could stay mad at her when she used it on them. "May-be…."_

Lizzie cleared her throat. "Now I have a question for _you. _I have reason to believe that you've been planning to do something you might regret later. Is that right?"

He squirmed. "Depends on what it is."

"Harry," she said, looking at him in the eye. "Are you thinking of running away?"

For a moment, he looked a little shocked that she would suggest such a thing. He shook his head. "I'm not _that _desperate! Er, no offense. I wanted out, but I want to see my friends, too."

She arched an eyebrow. "How would you have done that?"

He shifted a little. "Uh, I've been looking through the Book-" the rule book which all the rich people adhered to –" And, I noticed that…um…they never did say _which _Guard we had to join."

It took a few seconds for Lizzie to process this. And then she burst out laughing. "Harry, that's brilliant!"

He perked up. "It is?"

She nodded eagerly. "Grace taught you that, didn't she? Looking for loopholes?"

"Kinda."

She laughed again. "I get it now. She's raising the next generation of rebels! And you guys, obviously, are much smarter than _I _ever was." She smiled at him. "That's truly amazing, Harry. You should go for it."

"So you really don't mind? You _are _a thief and all."

"Doesn't matter." Then she realized what she just said. _Does this what Masila feels like? That she doesn't mind what cost to herself is, as long as her nephew is happy? _Probably.

He jumped up. "Can we sign up now? I was kinda planning to sneak out one night or another and do it, but I think we still have time."

"Of course." She still hadn't stopped smiling. "So, you planned to leave on New Year's on the sly? Wow. Just wow."

"It's nothing like Eb or Em would have come up with-"

"I don't see _them _using this loophole." She frowned. "Though perhaps you should tell Ebony."

"I did. I told all my guy friends." He shrugged. "Eb keeps avoiding the topic like the plague; I don't think he really accepts I'm leaving. As for the rest of them, well—they don't think it's possible." A bit of nervousness crept on to his face. "I won't know anyone in the Guard."

"I'm sure you'll make friends soon." She touched his arm. "Besides, family is allowed to visit, right? You'll be getting quite a few from me."

"Really?"

"Count on it."

* * *

Throughout the next few days, Lizzie made many visits to her cousin—or nephew, as how she now put it. Masila didn't really mind. Having people not thieves connected to the Guild helped quite a few people out, and so they didn't need too much money to distribute among the poorer members; and Lizzie filled her daily quota easily. She was rather amused to hear about the rich girl's cousin. Peter fully supported it, and thanks to Kayley's mother inviting Hanso for dinner all week Lizzie's son did not make so much fuss about it—although the little boy was not grateful enough to his best friend so much as to forget how she tortured him when he thought he was going to have to eat asparagus again. He and Alex had teamed up to make the girl's life a series of humiliating pranks.

Not that Kayley didn't get them back.

"_You…you…." Hanso couldn't even finish. For the second time in his life, his fur was coloured pink. Kayley snickered, and then went back to reading her book primly. He grumbled. At least he wasn't alone this time—Alex had a rather interesting makeover as well…._

No, Lizzie's visits were not a problem. But Masila often felt a pang of guilt whenever she heard her friend's stories over the dinner table. She'd been neglecting her own nephew, and at a time so crucial for him; granted, she'd been neglecting him because she had to organize those stupid search parties to find the rebels, but that didn't make her feel any better. Nor did the sneaking suspicion was that one of the reasons she couldn't find time to spend with Sam was that he was avoiding her.

So two days before Christmas, she got up early in the morning and snuck in to his home. It was directly over the bakery, and Fyora knows she'd had so many experience breaking in to shops that she could do this in her sleep—although this time, she wasn't coming for the merchandise. Stealthily, she crept into the apartment, past Marie's room, past the kitchen, into the chamber which looked like a page out of a storybook, right next to a canopy-green bed.

She smiled slightly. Sammy always looked sweet when he was asleep. e He f

He was getting to be so big—and growing up so fast. One day, he'd probably think himself too mature to receive either of his mother's or aunt's hugs and kisses. It made Masila a little wistful, at times. She was never going to have any children of her own – heavens, she never _wanted _any – but she adored spoiling her nephew. One day though, he was going to have to face the world on his own. And she needed to let him. She sighed.

Then she smirked. _Well, today's not the day yet._ "Sammy," she said sweetly. No response. She rolled her eyes—she had trained him herself to be a light sleeper. He had most definitely heard her. So either he was truly unwilling to get up or he was purposely trying to be _difficult. _Judging from the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, it was the latter. "Sammy," she said again.

"Five more hours," he groaned, placing the pillow above his head. "It's not a weekday!"

Masila tried to shake him, but he defiantly refused to budge. She pretended to sigh. "I didn't want to have to do this Sammy, but you leave me no choice." And she began tickling him.

"H-hey! Cut that out!" he spluttered as he doubled over laughing. "Th-that's ch-che-cheating!"

"And staying in bed late is just lazy."

"You call this hour of the morning late?"

"It's late if you want to see the sun rise! Want to go on an expedition with me, Sammy?" He grinned. That was what he had always called their little trips. Ever since he could crawl out of his crib, he was used to his aunt coming in any hour of night or day and whisking him off on an adventure. He had always loved those outings—he learned something awesome in the end. His parents didn't mind. When he was old enough to start reading, he found the word 'expedition' in one of the children's books, and the name stuck.

"Sure. You better tell Mum first, though."

"Oh, I think she'll know it was me," his auntie said, smirking. She held up a familiar old necklace. _The only way to earn it, _she had said, _is to steal it._ One day, it'd be his job to do the same.

So they headed out the hill to look at the sunrise.

Contrary to popular belief, Brightvale is not only named so for the clever minds it produces but also the wonderful dusks and dawns. Of course, most of the scholars there don't actually _notice _the dusk and dawns, their heads much too preoccupied, but visitors sure do. And people who simply liked observing things, as Masila and Sam did. Sitting down in the dew-wet grass, they watched contentedly as the sky turned into a rainbow of shades of violet, orange, and gold. Then they ate Mum's raisin bread, which, effectively, Auntie stole.

"But she was probably going to give it to you for breakfast anyway," Masila dismissed. "You don't mind sharing, do you, Sammy?" His mouth was too full of the pastry to answer.

After a bit, they both walked to the lake where she had once taught him how to swim. This time, though, she picked up a flat rock and threw it. Sam watched, fascinated, as the stone jumped up and down before finally sinking into the water. "You don't know how to skip rocks, do you, Sammy-boy?"

For hours, until the sun was well up in the sky, she taught him how to throw it. It was absurdly fun, looking around for pebbles and paddling into the water and splashing Auntie. She pretended to be mad at him when he squirted some water at her. "Ooh, that was my favourite cloak!"

"But it's water-proof."

"Still!"

He graduated their little crash course by throwing a rock and watching it skip three – four – _five _times! He smiled, triumphant, as his aunt ruffled his hair. "Excellent job, as always, sweetheart. Now, can you guess why we learned it?"

_Applications. _That was always a part of what they did—what they could use it for. "We-ell, I guess you could use it as some sort of signal, couldn't you? And if you, I don't know, want to send a message in the middle of the lake, it could be of some use."

"True," his aunt agreed. "but chances of both happening are slim, don't you think?"

"Yeah. So why'd we learn it for, then?"

Masila took a rock and threw it again. "Did you have fun?" she asked, not answering.

"Uh, yes."

"Then that's good enough for me," she said simply, as her stone skipped four times.

"Huh?"

She gave him a smile—a smile, he had realized later, was full of meaning. "Not everything has to do with sneaking around and being a thief, Sammy. Sometimes you just want to do something different."

Sam's blood ran cold. She couldn't _know_, can she? Well, he had to admit he wasn't much of an actor yet, but he had really, really tried to hide it from her. And of course, there was still that consuming thought that he wasn't sure he even _really _wanted to become a guard. He didn't like the idea of a passing obsession deciding his entire life. For the past few weeks he'd been fretting and worrying what he should do. The deadline, Summer said, was on Christmas. Only a couple of days to decide. "Sammy," Masila said gently. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Yes, absolutely. Auntie had always been his confidante—the time he broke Mum's favourite vase and they had searched high and low in the kingdom for a replica so she wouldn't notice, the time he accidentally toppled a wedding cake on top of a bride when she stepped in and made a joke of it and then promised not to tell his parents afterwards….never had he wanted to tell something to her this badly. She always gave good advice, and up till now he'd willingly been an open book to her. But what do you do when the secret keeping is going to hurt the secret-keeper the most?

She looked at him with complacent eyes, and he admitted defeat. At the very least, she deserved to know. "I guess…um, Auntie….would you mind if I….not….I mean….."

Then her eyes widened. For a moment, he thought that she had guessed it, but instead of saying something she grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him into a shrubbery, right into a tree. His head accidentally hit the back of the trunk. He stared at her, dazed, until he realized that the exact spot he had been standing in was now occupied by a long, scarily sharp knife that was embedded in to the ground.

"Blast!" he heard a voice say. "Almost had her!"

"Terrorists," she cursed.

"Auntie?" Sam said in a small voice. She placed a finger to her lips and peered out of the bush.

"Where'd she go?" said someone else. "She was right here!"

"Well, keep looking for her, you idiots!" said yet another person. "We need her for our plans!"

"Maybe we can just call?" one said. "Maybe she'll think we're one of her friendzies and then we can grab her? Good plan, yeah?" They distinctly heard someone being smacked on the head.

"Not likely," Masila muttered. "Sammy," she said softly, "These guys are terrorists. They've been doing horrible acts of violence throughout the kingdom—they're not mine," she added. "I've been planning to stop them, because if they don't the guards will—" And suddenly, her eyes narrowed. "Right. I think I know what they're planning now."

"What?"

"Later," she promised. "Right now we have to get out of here-"

"Hey, boss! We haven't checked the bushes yet!"

"Then quit standing there and get ta checking! We don't have all day, ya know!" They distinctly heard the sound of seven pairs of feet approaching them.

Masila took a deep breath. Based on her calculations, there was about eight of them out there—too many to overpower with her little nephew in tow. _Okay. _There was only one way to do this. "Sam, I'm going to show myself to them."

"_What_?"

"Hush. They'll think I'm alone. You can escape and get help."

"But-"

"Don't argue with me."

"B-but how will we find you?"

"I'll think of some way to mark the path." They both knew that a hundred things could go wrong with this plan, but there was nothing either of them could do. "Okay?" Fearfully, her nephew nodded. She stood up. "Oh, boys! Looking for little ole me?"

She didn't make it easy for them, Sam noticed. In fact, it was almost funny. She led them on a merry dance, trying to grab her, when suddenly the biggest one went caught her by holding on to her cloak. He watched, helpless, as they took her arms and forced them behind her back. "Well, well," said the big guy. "If it isn't Miss Quicksilver. Quite a catch that we have, don't we? Our master will be _plenty _pleased to see you."

"If I'm to be his honoured guest," she said sweetly, "He won't be very pleased that you've been treating me this roughly. How 'bout you ask them to loosen up a bit?" Her tone became persuasive.

For a moment, the guy looked befuddled. Then he laughed. "Ain't gonna work on me, girly. I'm to take you straight to the master and not listen to nothin' you say."

"Worth a shot," she said, shrugging.

And they left, leaving seven-year-old Sam trembling quietly in the bushes.

* * *

He was shocked to find nearly the entire Guild waiting when he arrived.

At first, he thought that they had found out and were waiting to interrogate him about the details. Then he realized that Auntie probably planned to have a meeting right after their little expedition—in fact, probably about the terrorists themselves. His mum was near the head of the table, along with Lizzie and Peter. She gave him a small smile when she saw him, and then resumed talking with her friends. It was clear, from the thieves' bored expressions and their unimportant chatter, that they had been waiting quite a while. He gulped and went to his mother to break the bad news.

"Mum?" She didn't notice. He realized it was too noisy for her to hear. "Mum!" he practically yelled, right next to her. She blinked at him in surprise.

"Hey, Sam," she said, also using a loud tone of voice. "Do you know where your auntie is? The meeting is about to start."

"Uh, that's what I want to talk to you about…"

"Speak up, darling, I can't hear you."

"Mum! I need to talk to you privately!"

"You need to what now?" she said, frowning.

He sighed irritably. "Mum! Auntie's been taken!"

"Your auntie's been faking? Well, that's hardly any news," Marie laughed.

Lizzie frowned. They couldn't hear a word of what Sam was saying, and he looked terribly distressed. She whistled loudly, managing to get the group quiet, just as Sam shouted, "Auntie's been taken by terrorists!"

Dead silence.

And then the screaming began.

"We're all gonna die!"

"They'll take the Guild!"

"Overthrow us!"

"Make us their slaves!"

"All right, everyone, calm down," Marie called out, but it was no use. They were all too hysterical to notice.

Sam groaned. While he loved his mum with all his heart, he could honestly admit she had barely any leadership qualities. Auntie had instructed that in case there came a time that she, for some reason, couldn't lead, they were to follow her sister. While the members of the Thieves' Guild might have agreed to this, and maybe, in a different case, it would've worked, but when some unknown force that they had never fought before showed up to kidnap their Guild Leader, their fragile system completely collapsed. He knew it would be some time for his mum to calm them down, and longer still for her to formulate a good plan.

And by then, it might already be too late.

An idea struck him. Quickly, he told his mum the rest of the details—she took careful note of them, and repeated them to the Guild. Lizzie, Peter, and Master Serpent were trying to get everyone to stay sane. Mum was trying to get everyone to listen. With the place in total chaos, Samuel Evans slipped outside the hideout unnoticed.

Well, _almost _unnoticed. Kayley watched, with her steely grey eyes, as the boy crept quietly to the doors. She nudged her best friend, who had been absorbed at the rather amusing of his parents. His eyebrows flew up when she whispered what she saw to him, and he grinned mischievously; together, they sped down the hall and followed after Quicksilver's nephew.

* * *

Despite how much Masila loathed being tied up and dragged to who-knows-where, she had to admit, she was pretty impressed with the so-called Master's daring in placing their hideout somewhere in Uptown. The Guard there was even more rigorous than the normal one; they were determined to seem better than the regular officers the poor folk had to depend on. She would never have suspected that a band of rebels would even consider placing their headquarters there.

Which meant, unfortunately, that neither her sister nor Sam would guess that too.

_Think, Quicksilver, _she ordered herself. _You've gotten out of worse scrapes than this. _Her head swam; all she could think of was delaying their journey for as long as possible until a thief spotted her and ran back to the Guild to report. _But they're probably all in the Guild Hall because of the meeting, _she thought. Whoever was behind this, he had planned it well.

Her eyes were programmed to take note of possible tools for escape, even little things that people wouldn't consider important. She did not have much to work with. While she guessed that the thugs who apprehended her weren't the sharpest of knives in the drawer, there were many of them, and they knew not to underestimate her. So. There were the white pebbles that lined the street—unfortunately, using them to mark the path would be glaringly obvious. There were flowers, sickly pink. There were two little boys….

Huh. Two little boys.

She paused to hear what they were saying.

"So you're really going to go through with it?" An Usul with thick, dark hair and midnight-black eyes was looking at a large Lupe. His tone didn't sound very happy. "You're going to sign up?"

"I've signed up already." The Usul sighed and slumped against the wall. "Look. It's not too late. I'm sure your mum won't mind a bit; she'll give you the money to go, if you want."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"I…" The Usul sighed. "I have my own reasons." There were undertones and frustrations laced deep within the phrase that Masila couldn't even begin to fathom—but there was no time to look into a seven-year-old's words.

The Lupe smirked at him. "You'll miss me, won't you? Admit it, Adonai."

"No! Of course not! It's just…uh…it's going to be so boring without strange ladies popping up out of nowhere demanding to see you."

"Ha. Once-in-a-lifetime thing."

"Oh, I don't know. Strange things happen around you, Harry Windsor."

"I dunno, maybe it's you that's weird." They boys shoved each other, for a moment just normal kids.

Masila's head, however, was spinning. _Harry Windsor. _Lizzie's nephew/cousin/whatever. At some point, she's sure to check on her relative, and if she could get the message, then maybe…

"Keep on moving, girl," a thug warned, prodding her with a dagger.

Glancing sideways, she saw a little altachuck pouncing into the bushes. A twig snapped, giving the rebels pause. She closed her eyes. This was going to hurt.

With lightning speed, she slammed into her two captors. In surprise, they let go of her wrists—but only for a moment. She ran to the bush. "Harry!" she called out. The two little boys gaped at her, but she didn't dare look directly at them. Instead, she addressed the bush, as if there was someone inside. "I'm a friend of your auntie's. Tell her that they've captured me, and that their hideout is somewhere here, and-"

They grabbed her. One of them ran for the bushes. "Damn it. He got away." The little boys stared. The thug looked at them and gave them a supposedly reassuring, yellow-toothed smile. "Don't worry about it, kids. Lady's delusional, that's what. You go along and play."

"Okay-y…" the Usul said slowly.

"Oh, and tell us if you know someone called Harry."

"Will do," the Lupe promised. Furtively, he nodded at Masila, showing he understood.

"Right." With that, they tugged Masila out of sight, into a grove of trees. A big one – probably the leader – crushed her against the wall, his face close enough for her to smell his breath. A prickle of fear jolted through her. "Trying to make a fool of us, are ya, girly?" he hissed. His eyes glinted. "You've no idea how much I wanna hurt you right now….only thing's stopping me is the boss. And only because I know whatever I do to ya, he'll do it ten times worse. But just in case…." He grabbed her arm and cut a long, bloody gash. She bit her lip, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of her reacting. As they dragged her onward, she noticed blood was dripping off her wound.

She could use that.

* * *

Behind her, Harry and Ebony looked at each other. The latter gave a nervous, shaky laugh. "Once-in-a-lifetime, eh, Harry?"

"Oh, shut up," he muttered. "I've got a message to send."

"Do you even know where Elizabeth _is_?" Harry shook his head sheepishly. "How are you planning to find her? More importantly, how are you going to lead her to her friend?"

"Help?"

"Fine," Ebony sighed. "I go follow after them. You find Elizabeth."

"…How?"

"No idea," he admitted. "I wish there were three of us." Silently, he wished that he could tell his mum—but no matter how lovely and clever she was, she was in a rather _fragile state _at the moment, and he didn't forget it. "There's only one place I could think of thieves being, and that's where you're planning to go in January."

"What are you-" Realization dawned to him. "Oh."

"Look on the bright side. It'll give you an early look at the Guard Base."

"You think a good impression means asking them to help a thief?"

"Harry, Harry, Harry. If there's one thing I know 'bout you WIndsors, it's that whatever people would think of you, you guys certainly know how to make an entrance."

* * *

"You don't understand! This isn't some sort of prank or trap to lure you guys in! When has she – or the Leader of the Thieves' Guild – have ever _done _that? For the hundredth time," Sam Evans seethed. "_She was taken by terrorists._"

"And here I thought," the Captain said coolly, "Quicksilver can take care of herself. She never deemed us worth cooperating with. Why should I risk my troops' necks to save hers?"

"Excuse me?" Sam said, his seven-year-old face contorting. "She's a citizen of Brightvale. As far as you know, she's never done anything wrong. This is your _job_. How could you just ignore this?"

"Do you have any proof that she was taken?"

"Proof! I saw them grab her with my own eyes!"

"Uh-huh. You really expect me to believe that?"

"But-"

"Listen, kid," the Captain said softly, his face leaning down close to the child's. "We all know what you're going to be. We all know you take after your precious little auntie. If one of you pests can't endanger the _true _citizens of Brightvale anymore, then I don't consider that as much of a problem. Even better if it's her."

"You're just going to let her be killed?" Sam said, stupefied.

He snorted. "Sure, Sammy-boy. Let's go with your story. We're going to let her be killed."

Sam glared at him. Why had he wanted to be one of the guards again? Right now, with blood rushing through his head and worry for his aunt consuming his entire being, he couldn't remember the reason. He wanted to scream at him. To shout. To lash out. To show that smug little face that he was more than just a child. It wouldn't be too hard, he thought. The man would underestimate him, and he knew a few fatal spots where he could hit that could have him begging for mercy in moments-

_Temper, Sammy, _said his auntie's voice. _That's your weak spot. Jealousy, rage—you can barely control them. That's all right, sweetheart, but if you can't supress them, you've gotta learn how to __**use**__ them._

Could he possibly persuade the man to help him? No. He wouldn't take Sam seriously at all, and he wasn't as good as his aunt yet at talking people into things. He would have no help here.

Suddenly, he was rammed into from behind. "Ow!"

"Sorry," the Lupe, a guy about his age, said hastily. His eyes quickly found the Captain. "Excuse me, sir?"

The Captain arched an eyebrow. "Harry Windsor? You do know that training starts in January."

Sam, who had been making his way out in a huff, stopped dead in his tracks. Harry Windsor? Hanso's cousin? "Um, yeah, I do," the boy said sheepishly. "I'm just wondering….is there anyone called Lizzie Laron in jail at the moment?"

The Captain raised his eyebrows. A sly little smile played around his lips. "Lizzie Laron? I know of her. Why would she be in jail?"

Harry looked confused. "Because she's a-"

"Excuse us a moment," Sam said, clamping a hand over Harry's mouth. Before the Captain could stop him, he dragged the Harry guy out in the hall. "Are you nuts?" he demanded. "Do you know how close you were in giving the guy a confirmation?"

"Confirmation?"

"That Lizzie's a thief!" Sam said in a hushed whisper. He looked at him blankly. Sam sighed. "Look. The best thieves are the ones that are never found out. It's part of auntie's—er, the Leader of the Thieves' Guild's strategy. Rule Number One: Never get caught. Rule Number Two: Never confirm you're a thief."

"A set of rules, huh?" Harry grinned. "I can relate."

"Why do you want to talk to Lizzie, anyway?"

"Uh…I'm not sure if I should tell you."

"Well, she's in the Guild Hall. You can't go in there," Sam added just when Harry opened his mouth.

He groaned. "But I need to take her a message!"

Sam looked at him quizzically. "I can honestly say Lizzie doesn't keep many secrets from me. Just tell. I'll pass it on, I promise."

Harry hesitated, and then blurted out, "A lady was being dragged against her will in Uptown and she ran away for a bit and she addressed the bush but I knew she was talking to me and said I should send a message that the hideout or whatever was there but then they got her and said she was delusional but I knew she wasn't and I nodded and she looked kinda relieved but then they took her away and I-"

"Whoa! Slow down, buddy." Sam studied him with new interest. "You say you saw a lady being taken against her will in Uptown?"

"Yeah. She was an Acara, nice-looking but sort of scary, and she told me to get a message to Lizzie."

Sam's stomach dropped. "That was most definitely Auntie. Was she okay?"

"Fine enough, though they might have done something to her as punishment when she tried to talk to me. They seemed pretty mad. Hey, are you okay? You look kind of pale."

"I'm fine," Sam said angrily, turning away. He hated feeling useless.

"So, you'll tell Lizzie?"

"There wouldn't be much point," he sighed, "Other than showing the location. It'll take a while for them to make up a plan."

"Sounds just like Eb and Em. _Make a plan, Harry! Don't just get yourself into these things._" Despite everything, Sam couldn't help but laugh at the weird impersonation. "But I think I've got to, just this once," Harry continued. "This is my family we're talking about here. This lady is important, right?"

"Only the most important person in the Guild!" Sam paused, and then said, "She's the Leader, actually."

"Oh. That's who Lizzie was talking about the other day."

"Yeah. And it's kind of a secret. Promise not to tell anyone?"

"Sure, though I wouldn't sell her out anyway. My aunt's part of the Guild, yeah? Only nice family I have."

"You have a cousin and uncle, you know."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot." He smirked. "It's been a bit since I've had _nice _relatives." He stretched. "So what's the plan, bro? Obviously, you're not going to just leave it to the adults, even if you are planning on telling Lizzie."

Sam gave a start. "How did you know?"

"Like I said, you have an Ebony-ish look about you." He frowned. "Speaking of Ebony, he's following the thugs who took your aunt at the moment."

"Say what? Oh, crap."

"He can handle himself."

"Really?" Sam didn't sound convinced.

Harry spread out his hands. "We're Uptown kids. We're tougher than we look. Well, what they normally look. I'm as tough as I look." He flexed his arms.

"A bit much," said Sam wryly.

"Oh, well."

"Anyway," Sam said. "I don't think we should come up with anything before I say the layout. Could you guys take me there?"

"Su-"

"If you're done using the Guard's hall to make up your schemes, I suggest you get out." The Captain glared at them, holding the door open. They winced, nodded, and proceeded to run out the doorway. The guard just shook his head disapprovingly. Then, in a tired tone, he said, "They're quite gone, Miss Vines. You didn't think you'd get past me, did you?"

"Of course not, sir," Summer said, stepping out of the shadows. A knot of worry was in her stomach. If Sam, one of the sneakiest people she's ever met, hadn't noticed her, then the problem must be really bad. "But…I couldn't be possibly the only one who eavesdropped on that, could I?"

He acknowledged her with a nod. "Yes, Miss Vines. I know exactly what they're planning."

"We have to stop them!" she exclaimed. "They're just kids, they could get hurt-"

"-If they're not making the entire thing up."

Summer frowned. "Sir, with all due respect, I've observed Sam pretty closely for a while. He rarely lies, especially if it has something to do with his aunt." _Just tells half-truths, _she added silently, but the Captain didn't need to know that. "Besides, why would Harry Windsor be in on it? What association does_ he _have with thieves?"

"I was the one he signed up with, if you recall," he said coldly. "He was escorted by Lizzie Laron."

"Well, there's never been proof that she's a thief-"

"Now you're sounding like one of them," he snapped.

She threw up her hands. "What _is _it with you and thieves? I'm sorry, Captain, but you seem to hate them more than all the guards here combined."

"You have no right to talk like that to me. Go back to your apartments, if you please."

"But what about the children? They could get hurt-"

"Lieutenant!" he barked. "Escort Miss Vines out of here." Summer rolled her eyes as the second-in-command appeared out of nowhere, just as he always did whenever the Captain called. It was a little creepy, actually. The man, embarrassed, took her arm and led her out of the room to the direction of her chambers.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"It's okay, French," she said with a small smile. "You're not the Captain. Although you'd be a much better one if you somehow get promoted," she muttered.

He laughed slightly. "Miss Vines, if anyone is going to replace the Captain, I'm prepared to bet that it'll be you."

"With how nice I am to thieves? Yeah, right."

"You should forgive them for that, Summer. He hates having anything to do with Quicksilver and her thieves. He's had a bad experience with one of them—well, two of them."

"What?"

"You were still training when that happened, right?"

"I suppose. But what does that have to do with this?"

"It has everything to do with this," he said sadly. "But I don't think the Captain would want me to say."

"You know I'll figure it out eventually," Summer said, hands on her hips as she entered her room.

"Why do you think I told you in the first place?" he asked, closing the door before she could answer.

* * *

"There you are!" Ebony nearly collapsed with relief when he caught sight of his friend. "Did you find Elizabeth?"

"Nope. But I did find help."

Ebony looked at the Kyrii critically. "Perfect, another boy our age."

"You did say you wished there could be three of us," Harry pointed out. "Hey, I thought you were supposed to follow them?"

"I did. I found their Base. I can lead you to them right now, if you want, but without grown-ups I don't think that's advisable," he said, staring at Sam.

The Kyrii glared at him. "Look, buddy. Those guys have my auntie, and for all I know, she could be hurt-" Ebony suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Sweet Fyora. She's hurt, isn't she?"

"Not _badly_," Ebony said hastily. "But I do think we should get help. What can you do alone?"

"He won't be alone. I'll help him," Harry piped up. "And you remember our own Rule Number One, don't you?"

"Now _I'm _getting dragged into this?" Ebony complained. "Fine. I'm very good with strategies and fire. I _should _be good at other things, but I suppose I'll have to wait a few more years for my dad to unleash the unholy army of tutors on me."

"Weird combo," Sam commented. Ebony shrugged, acknowledging this.

"Obviously, I'm the strongest," Harry said, a teeny bit boastful. "I can wield a sword pretty well—kind of. At least, uh, I can slash around with it."

"I can fight with a dagger," Sam said, impressing the other boys but Ebony quite unwilling to show that. "And my Auntie's been training me since forever. I'm pretty good with strategies, too."

"Okay, okay," Ebony conceded. "Maybe with the three of us, we could work out something."

"Lead the way, then, Adonai." With the two rich kids flanking him, Sam made it through the gate. He got same suspicious glares from two of the Uptown guards, though. _Never go in there, Sammy, _his auntie once said. _Not until I've trained you in sneaking in, or you've got an inside person. They're more ruthless in there than even the regular Guard._ He had to admit, the place was sure worth defending. The houses were beautifully and sturdily built, the gardens breath-taking. He even spotted some herbs that Auntie would have loved to collect…if she wasn't currently tied up at the moment.

"We saw her over there," Harry said, pointing, oblivious to Ebony shaking his head frantically. Sam, however, noticed. A tingle of dread lodged in his chest. Quickly, he ran to the place. His heart nearly stopped.

A pool of thick, red blood was in the grass. "Oh, Fyora…." His knees buckled. He gritted his teeth, trying to stop himself from completely collapsing at the sight.

"Hey," Ebony said, hesitantly touching him on the shoulder. He imagined this would be exactly how he'd react if it was his mum who'd been captured. "It's okay. She was still standing when they put her in the hideout."

"That's Auntie," Sam said in a hoarse voice. "Always acting strong."

Harry helped him up. "We'll save her," he promised. He frowned. "That sure is a lot of blood."

"Thank you, oh helpful one," Ebony said sarcastically.

"I'm just saying, there's a bit of blood over there."

"There's a bit of blood in a lot of places," Ebony admitted. "It helped me find my way when I lost them."

"She left us a trail," Sam said, his eyes wide. "Come on!"

After that, they made their way pretty quickly. Ebony was invaluable—Masila couldn't spare too much blood to mark the way, nor could she make the path very obvious. Sam snapped bushes, scattered leaves, and generally made a mess of things as they went. "What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"I'm marking the place. Any decent tracker can follow this path," he explained.

"Shh," Ebony hissed. "We're here."

"That's gonna be awfully hard to break into," Harry said in an awed voice.

It was well-hidden, Sam had to grant them that, being placed in a large grove of trees which Ebony claimed hadn't been used since Uptown hosted festivals a long way back. Even the tents were partly camouflaged. But the sheer numbers of the people were much too huge to disguise, and the three boys gaped as they saw them walking to and fro, practicing with deadly-looking weapons. "Why do the hate her so much?" was the thought on Sam's mind.

"Hm. Has your aunt ever stopped anyone from using weapons?" the Adonai boy said.

Sam started, not realizing that he talked out loud. "I—yeah, I guess. She doesn't tolerate people fighting more than necessary. Kicks them out if they refuse."

"That was foolish," Ebony said, earning a glare from Sam. "What? It was. There you go, they want to take revenge since they've been left to fend for themselves."

"Fend for themselves? They'd have been welcome any time if they agreed they wouldn't do it again."

"Sam, they're bloodthirsty. You really think they'll see it that sensibly?"

"….My auntie is not foolish."

"I'm sure she isn't. I'm guessing she was looking at the Guild as a whole, and having crazy members is going to hurt your reputation, not to mention that might influence a lot of other members. But…"

"It's made her many enemies," Sam concluded. "I guess I can see that."

"You guys come up with something yet?" Harry asked, bored.

"You can think too, Harry," Ebony snapped.

"All I can think of is having a distraction, diverting everyone's attention – maybe using a fire? – with Sam running after his auntie, and us running away as soon as she's free."

Sam's jaw dropped. "Harry! That's brilliant!"

"Really?"

"Simple, but effective," Ebony analysed. "Yes, this might actually work, providing your aunt is alone. But I still think we should send a message to grown-ups."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"You don't have a lot of faith on authority figures, do you?"

Sam flushed. Another weakness Auntie had commented upon. "No, not really."

"They might have resources we have. I'm not saying we should wait until the cavalry gets here or anything, but we should at least tell them."

"But I'm the only one who knows where the Thieves' Guild is. And, no offense guys, I don't trust you enough to tell you where it's located."

"None taken," Ebony said briskly. "But that leaves us in a sort of dilemma. You don't want to go, obviously. How are we going to send a message, then?"

"Ahem," said a voice them. They whirled around, finding two toddlers smiling mischievously. "Perhaps we can be of assistance?"

* * *

"You're going to get in trouble," Summer's best friend said, shaking his head.

"Oh, shut it, Draik boy," Summer snapped, tugging on her boots and belting up her sword. She hastily tied her hair up where it wouldn't get in the way. Momentarily, she considered bringing her helmet—nah. Okay, she might get her head cracked open, but that stupid thing was so uncomfortable. And this was a stealth mission, really. She examined herself in the mirror. "It's not like I haven't taken risks before. Last time it got me promoted."

"Last time, you were saving a team of guards dispatched to stop a run-away wizard. This is different. You know how the Captain feels about thieves."

"And I should let that stop me, why?" she asked. "You know how I view them. They're just people, and seriously, Miss Quicksilver keeps them all under control anyway. They never steal too much, even from the wealthy folks. The crime rate is even going down—I've checked."

"You're just doing this 'cause you have a crush on Peter," he grumbled.

"Excuse me?" she shrieked, whirling around. "_Crush on Peter_? I have never met a more annoying, irritating, incorrigible man! Sweet as a friend, maybe, but I do _not _have a crush on him. I can't see how Lizzie even _stands _it."

He laughed, looking oddly more cheered up. "Okay, okay. But how about the new promotion you wanted? You're never going to get it at this rate."

"Get a promotion, or save the one person who's holding back an all-out war between thieves and guards? I'll work for it another time."

"Summer, you hate being a teacher."

"While you absolutely _adore _it."

He shrugged. "Field-work's fun, but I've kinda had enough of it after the first few years. I'd rather train kids—it's really cute how determined they are to fight crime. And don't underrate yourself, Miss Vines. You have a knack for getting people to follow their dreams. You really gonna give that up for Quicksilver? This isn't a not-getting-promoted thing, Summer. You can get _fired._"

"Pfft. My reputation and spotless record won't allow it."

He snorted. "Spotless record? Since when has your record been _spotless_?"

"And anyway," she continued, as if she hadn't heard him, "This _is _about getting someone to follow his dreams. I saw Sam walking out the door. He looked so…betrayed. Like he couldn't understand why the guards were acting like this. If I let him believe that we're corrupt and horrible, he might not want to join anymore."

"The chances of him joining anyway are slim to none."

"Better than nothing." She smirked at him, batting her eyelashes. "So, you'll cover for me?"

He sighed in a defeated manner. "Don't I always?"

* * *

"No offense, but are you _quite _sure it's advisable to involve little kids in this?" Ebony said sceptically, frowning as Hanso dashed off.

Harry shrugged. "He seemed pretty smart to me."

"You're just saying that because you're relatives," Ebony said, rolling his eyes. Harry grinned.

"_So__** you're **__my cousin," the little Ixi boy exclaimed, looking at him with brown eyes full of curiosity. "You know, I had to eat asparagus a full day 'cause of you. And I'm sharing my mom."_

"_Uh…thanks?"_

_Hanso looked at him a little more. "You're weird," he concluded. Sam sniggered. "I like you!"_

"We can handle it," Kayley promised, with a toss of her braid. "We're capable, 'specially me. Right, Sam?" She stared at him, her steely grey eyes flashing like a blade. A twinge of uneasiness settled in Sam's stomach, seeing her determined and ready for battle so young. _But that's how she is, _he thought. And there was that little secret she's always carrying around, the one that even Hanso didn't know and Auntie had confided in him in a dark, stormy night. _It doesn't matter anymore, _he told himself. Sometimes, though, he felt a little anxious of the girl Auntie considered one of her protégés.

But this wasn't the right time to worry about Kayley. Auntie was in trouble, and he was going to save her, no matter what.

* * *

Masila was quite a good actress. She had to be, as the Leader of the Thieves' Guild; someone in her position simply couldn't wear their hearts on their sleeves, though Marie, Hanso, and even Sam sure did (she was planning to work on him with that one). Therefore, she was quite skilled wiping the nervousness from her face.

They would not underestimate her, that much was clear.

It was one of Masila's primary defences. While she had proven herself again and again that she was perfectly capable of leading the Guild, some people could be _so _sexist. It annoyed her, but it proved a useful tool against enemies. They were lax in keeping a proper eye on her, and as a result, suffered a bitter defeat. Served them right, she always thought.

This time, it wouldn't be the case. Whoever had tied her up had her guarded carefully, her hands tied together to a pole, her feet bound, and – wisely – her mouth gagged. She was barely able to move. That didn't stop her from _trying _to escape, of course. Twice now, her captors caught her trying to undo the ropes by sliding her dagger across them, and when that was taken away, simply untying it carefully using her nimble fingers. They used chains after that.

Now, all she could do was wait to see who exactly wanted her treated thus.

She did not have to wait long.

"Well, well, Miss Fatale," he said casually. The man had a leisurely walk, as if not feeling threatened by her at the slightest. He wore a suit of rich black—whatever position he occupied now was an honoured one. She wondered who would be so stupid as to hire someone like him. He put her hand near her face, as if to slap her. She glowered at him, daring to do so, and he laughed, taking off her gag instead. "Long time no see. Beautiful as ever, I'll give you that. And the glaring, oh, yes, that's stayed the same. But wait. Something's changed." He chuckled, fingering her silver bounds. "Mmm. Last time we met each other, I was the one in chains, was it not?"

_Masila stood over the Lupe, her face a mask. Inside, she was utterly disgusted. The man unwillingly kneeling before was convicted of violent acts of murder, terrorism…and far worse things, some she wished her nephew never to hear. As always, the entire Thieves' Guild was there, each of them having a say in her judgement. Sometimes, it was frightening to deal this way, especially if the one who committed the crime was popular—there was always a chance that the jury would decide to let him go, and she would have no choice to comply._

_She was not worried this time. They were shocked by the things that he did as she was._

"_I was only defending myself," he maintained. "Besides," he tried appealing to their natures. "We're thieves, yeah? We're __**supposed **__to do these things. It's __**her **__that's always keeping as back, the bi-"_

"_Enough," Masila cut off. He did not have a silver tongue, as her sister called it, like her, but he was making points that many have raised before. "We are__** thieves. **__We are not __**murderers. **__If you forget, in the beginning of my term, we all made the rules. We all agreed on them. Each law was sensible and had a reason behind it; and now, it's more crucial than ever, when King Hagan had only just revoked the Guard's right to punish criminals too harshly-"_

"_We should take advantage of it-"_

"_We should show them we deserve it, by giving them the same mercy in kind," she said in the most powerful voice she could muster. "It taints are reputation to be so brash." She eyed all of them carefully. "As I'm sure the people here know, the proper punishment for this is expelling him out of the Guild."_

"_Now hold on a second," the Lupe said, panic apparent in his face. Being kicked out of the Thieves' Guild was considered a fate worse than death. "You can't kick me out. I've been a good warrior, a good defender-"_

"_You're more of that than a thief, then. If you were looking for a way to release your energy, you could have joined those mock fights they sometimes host in the square. You've already received several warnings about this. We do not condone brutality."_

"_My family-"_

"_-Will be well taken care of, and if you demonstrate good behaviour, then by the agreement of your peers you will be allowed to visit them."_

"_Yu can't do this to me," he said indecorously. "You can't."_

_To Masila, he sounded like a child that wanted to escape punishment. She had no pity for him in that regard. Though she felt a little sorry about him having to leave his family, she suspected that he only brought them up in an effort to gain some advantage. She shook her head coldly. "You did this to yourself, Master Vlade. All in favour?" A number of raised hands greeted her. "It's done. Have someone mind-wipe the location of the hideout and leave." Although part of her wanted to mind-wipe him completely, she decided she could never be that merciless. A life tainted with thievery could be hard, especially if you did not have talents that accompanied it. "If your behaviour counts for it, you have my word that your case will be reviewed in the future." Though privately, she doubted if she'd let a man who'd done such awful things to set foot in any close proximity to her nephew, ever._

_In any case, he was already displeasing the jury, shouting and snarling. It took five people to hold him back. His eyes darted around frantically until they locked with hers. They hardened, deadly and dangerous. "Don't think this is the last you'll hear of me, Miss Fatale," he warned as they attempted to drag him away. "I'm not the only one you've done this to. There are others. One day, we will rise against you, and you will rue the day you've ever crossed paths with me."_

"_I'm sure I will," she said, her voice thick with sarcasm. _

_The Hall doors slammed on his face, and Masila had to supress a sigh of relief that it was over. _

Well. Perhaps not quite over as she suspected. She looked at him up and down, her eyes narrowed. "You've become smarter," she observed. "Of course you did. You'd have to be, to catch me. Not that that's really going to help you, with the Thieves' Guild on the way to set me free."

"The Thieves' Guild is in chaos," he told her smoothly. "Your little sister, I'm afraid, is not much of a leader as you are."

"They'll come for me anyway."

"Mm. And I suppose that's your plan, is it, Fatale? Hold on while they come and get you." He sighed. "Really, is that the best a lady called Quicksilver can do? Or were you depending on your wittle nephew to rescue you?" For a moment, she flinched. "Oh, that's right, you thought my thieves weren't aware that he was there. Silly girl. Of course he was supposed to be there. Someone had to get our message back to the Thieves' Guild, yes, and your nephew was as good as any. I'm guessing you've _at least _figured out my plan?"

"Perhaps."

"Say it out loud, then." He sat down, as if preparing to be entertained.

"You plan to kill me," she said in an even tone. "And then leave my body in some place you destroyed and make the guards find it. They will assume it's the thieves and attack. The thieves will be angered of it, and will retaliate. There will be war, and you will present yourself as right all along and probably rule the Guild in my place."

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said wistfully. "I suppose you haven't _completely _lost your touch."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Maybe. But the point of it isn't really to rule the Guild, you know." He drew his face close to hers. "It's to cause you as much excruciating pain as possible."

"How petty," she said calmly. "A personal vendetta. And here I thought you were gaining a little style. Come, sweet, don't pretend I don't have my own bargaining chip with you."

He laughed. "And what do you have that I could possibly want?"

"Lucrezia."

The effect on him was immediate. He stiffened, and his eyes turned to slits. Rage filled him utterly, and once again, she thought that he would throw himself on the grass like a little kid and beat the ground in a tantrum. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain in control. He smiled at her serenely. "Ah, Lou. Yes; she'll come over to my side once you're gone and all's right."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Masila said simply. "You might find her a _little _hard to corrupt. I've always taken a personal interest in her upbringing, and you—why, she hardly even remembers you."

"That's all _your _doing!"

Masila arched an eyebrow. "I stand by what I've said before, sweetheart. _You _did this to yourself."

He opened his mouth to snarl something, but quickly clamped it shut. She gave him an amused smile. "I'll take my chances," he said, after a pause. "I'll have a whole lifetime ahead, after all. You, I'm afraid, only have hours."

"We'll see about that."

And then a jet of fire appeared in the sky. Red and gold sparks flew in all directions, some lighting up tents. Smoke began to rise; the heat began to build up. Masila's lips twisted into a tight smile. She had absolutely no idea what was going on, but it always helped to let her opponent think that she had an advantage. "What's this?" she asked innocently. "Not one of your tricks?"

"What the hell are you fools doing?" he shouted at two nearby people. Most of his minions, Masila noticed, were also the ones she had kicked out before. No doubt some of them had brains, but most were simply muscle who did not have an ounce of common sense. And while that could prove useful at times….well, in incidents like now, Vlade was sure to be at his wit's end trying to control them. Vlade turned away, barking orders.

"Psst."

Masila stiffened. She knew that little voice. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a black Acara creep into the shadows and edging closer to where she was. She was holding a tiny pin in her hand—a lock-pick. For a moment, Masila considered telling her to run away. She loathed it when one of her younger charges went through any danger, especially because of her. But then, she decided there would be no point. Even if Kayley turned back now, there would be nowhere to run.

Slowly, the girl crept closer and closer. Vlade had stopped yelling out orders, and instead simply watching the whole camp with a small, concentrated frown on his face that made Masila shudder. Kayley went to work on Masila's hands, and the Guild leader was somewhat relieved that it was she who was given the job instead of Hanso. Though the boy was gifted in many ways, he still had yet to master the art of picking a lock as efficiently as Kayley did.

Another pillar of fire set off nearby. For a moment, Masila's face betrayed fear. She was raised in a place that was between cold and freezing, and while fire there was considered life-giving, it was also dangerous and unpredictable. Light flashed.

Vlade's eyes were looking at her, more amused than ever.

"Kayley, hand me the lock-pick and go."

"But I'm almost do-"

"Now!"

Without another word, the little Acara girl handed her the tool and left. Vlade chuckled dryly. "Wise choice, Miss Fatale."

"You knew they were here."

"Oh, Masila. I've been planning this for a long, long time. I know everyone who's going to be here."

"Including the fire?"

For a moment, his face twitched. "Perhaps not that," he admitted. "But it's of little consequence."

"Little consequence? Sweetheart, a lot of your group might get roasted alive."

"And I care, why? As I said, Miss Fatale, the whole point of this is to cause you as much pain as possible." His eyes lit up in sadistic pleasure. Masila briefly wondered what kind of home he had when he was a kid—he was obviously a psychotic maniac. Perhaps it was not the wisest of choice to kick him out of the streets alone. She should have, at the very least, put him in the asylum. Or handed him to the Guard, no matter how much flack she would have gotten.

"Funny, it's not been _that _very painful to me," she said through gritted. It would have been another case if he had managed to catch Kayley; but the little girl got away.

He smirked, like he knew exactly was she was thinking. "Are you sure?"

A cold wave of dread overwhelmed her. He snapped his fingers, carefully watching her face.

Masila was quite a good actress.

But even she couldn't hide the horror she felt when she saw them bringing her nephew in chains.

* * *

To Harry's credit, the plan _almost _worked. They got the burning part right, with Ebony and Harry managing to run to a cover of trees just when the thieves began trying to catch whoever was responsible for all of this. Kayley had managed to get to Auntie, though for some reason, she got sent away really quickly. It was him that was too slow, too slow to duck away from the hand grabbing him, too slow to help, too slow to help anyone.

It was almost as if they knew to watch for him.

He couldn't blame what happened on his captors, though. Not if he wanted to learn from this – _if _he got out of this. That was another lesson of Auntie's, to learn what he did wrong so he can do better next time – _if _there was a next time. Right now, it was seemed very unlikely. He remembered Master Vlade a few years back, and a little bit because Auntie took extra care to help Lucrezia, who was about the same age as Hanso and Kayley. The stories about him didn't exactly make him feel better.

"Sammy!" he exclaimed, in a mock-happy voice. "Long time no see. Don't remember much about you, but if I'm right, you're your Miss Fatale's pride and joy, correct?"

"Let him go," Auntie seethed, her eyes turning to slits. "He's but a child. He has nothing to do with this."

"Oh, but he does have something to do with this," the man all but sang. "A very crucial part, in fact. You care for him a lot, don't you? You'd do _anything _for him. Is that right?" Silence. "Answer me, or I'll slit his throat." To prove it, Vlade pressed the blade of his dagger close to Sam's neck. The seven-year-old gulped, knowing that he meant it. "I'm waiting."

Auntie's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Yes," she said softly.

"Good. So, just to prove without a doubt that _you're _the guilty one, you're to kill that guard everyone's talking about now – what's her name? Summer Vines?" Sam's eyes widened, but he lowered them quickly. "Ah, yes, Miss Vines. Young, spirited, and talented, the people already _love _her for her bravery, don't they? And what's more, she actually likes thieves. She's even _friends _with one. And the most shocking thing? Miss Quicksilver allows it. Maybe," and he nearly spit when he said this, "maybe she and the thieves are not so bad after all. Maybe they can make peace. _Ha. _As if anything had ever been achieved with _that._"

Sam knew, without looking at her, that Auntie was having trouble not to roll her eyes.

"….Shouldn't be too hard, with your skills…."

He also knew that Vlade had her cornered.

"….Will be the crowning part of my plan, and then…."

He knew, from the look on her eyes now if nothing else, that she loved him completely. He wasn't boasting. It was just a fact. She'd do anything for him, from talking his mother out of a punishment for him to…to…to killing a guard and jeopardizing the entire Guild.

"…And it would prove, once and for all, that I was right about them," he finished triumphantly.

Sam knew, without a doubt, that there was nothing he could do about it. He risked a glance at Auntie, prepared to see disappointment in her eyes.

But she was smiling slightly.

He blinked, wondering how she could have this reaction when things were so serious. Or why she was pulling her hood down so that he could only see a part of her face now.

"Excuse me, darling," she said in a sweet tone. "I hate to say this, but there are quite a few flaws to your plan."

Vlade raised his eyebrows. "Are they now?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Then point them out, Miss Fatale."

"Well, besides there being no way in hell I would do _anything_ you said, you underestimate Miss Vines. She's a lot tougher to kill than you think."

"Is she?"

"Yes. In fact, she's right behind you."

Sam's eyes darted upwards just in time to see the _oh crap _expression on Vlade's face as he got jabbed in the behind by the hilt of Summer's sword. She smirked, knocking him over flat and jutting the point at his own neck, just like he did with Sam a few minutes before. "You are under arrest by the Brightvale Guard for kidnapping an innocent citizen, attempting to harm a child, and planning murder. My murder," she said thoughtfully. "Hm. Am I really considered that important? If so, I _really _should get that promotion. Anyway, you have the right to remain silent, and everything you say will and can be held against you."

"Get the hell off me!"

"Including that."

Vlade roared in anger and, with amazing agility, grabbed his blade and slid Summer's sword from his neck. He rolled over and stood up, seething. "How the heck did you-" His face changed and his eyes flew to Sam, who was wise enough to keep a safe distance from him. "You had accomplices."

"Yes," Sam said uncertainly.

"You've gotta be kidding me. No thief would trust a-"

"Yeah," Harry said, popping up from behind a tree.

-"But we're not exactly thieves," Ebony stated, walking over to them.

Vlade gaped openly for a few precious minutes. "Rich kids? _You allied with rich kids_?"

"Watch that insulting tone, if you please," Ebony said.

He scowled. "Well, if this isn't a fun little group. Rich kids, guards, thieves. You've got a lot of guts, Quicksilver-" He paused. There was absolute silence. "Where'd she go?"

As Sam watched Vlade's growing agitation, he couldn't help a small grin working up his face. So that's Auntie's plan. Keep him distracted long enough. Keep him talking. Keep him caught up in what he's saying, so absorbed that he's almost oblivious, while she's worked her way through her bonds like the devil might catch her. Quietly slip them off, when his back's turned.

Then, time for her to depart.

He was glad she still trusted him enough to be safe even when she wasn't there.

Apparently, Summer realized it too. She gave him a charming smile. "Like I said, buddy. You're under arrest. You can come quietly now, or-"

"Come quietly? You're fucking kidding me, right? I'm not going with you, Miss Vines. You know that."

"Then I will have to force-"

"Force me? Yeah, right. You could barely catch me with a team of guards. You have no power over me." His eyes roved around angrily. "But neither do I right now, I guess." He began stalking to the trees. Summer made to follow him, but he waved his dagger threateningly. "Don't even think about it. I'm an expert at knife-throwing, and you can't protect all of those little kiddies at once. Move, and I swear one of them will die tonight."

Summer Vines gritted her teeth, but stayed put.

"As for you," Vlade said softly, staring straight into Sam's eyes. "Tell Quicksilver this isn't over. Not by a long-shot."

And he disappeared.

* * *

Masila's head lay on her desk, her arms curled up around her. She had been sitting like that since her nephew had come and, reluctantly, told her the aftermath of the battle. She smiled a little at his nervousness to discuss Summer Vines. But that was all right. She gave him a goodnight kiss, told him that she was proud of him, and sent him off. Then she went back to her desk and promptly buried her face in her arms, thinking what a complete and utter failure she was.

_Would Galem or Kanrik have let this happen? _

She doubted it. Galem would be so intimidating that even Vlade wouldn't dare challenge him, and Kanrik…well, Kanrik knew how to lose when he needed to. Probably, he'd have seen this coming all along, and have done something about it—maybe even have kept Vlade in the Guild so he could keep a closer eye on him. But she never could have done that.

In a way, she was just as bad as Vlade in that regard.

Too proud, too vengeful, too willing to hold on to grudges; that was something she had always tried to make herself stop doing since she was a little girl. It was so bitterly hard sometimes; how many instances in the Mountain that she had to pretend to be the adoring girlfriend, the meek strange girl in the shadow of her prettier younger sister? How many times had the only things that sustained her were promises to herself that she'd get back at them one day? When Vlade had said that _he _was right, when he showed a rather maniacal reaction, she didn't stop to consider that maybe she should think this through a bit carefully. Automatically, she had to prove herself the correct one, and keep this moron out of the way for influencing others to think otherwise.

_Look how that worked out with Galem, _she reminded herself. Even after all these years, her stomach churned with guilt. He'd been cruel to her – perhaps sadistically so – but did he really deserve the death she was planning for him? Was there truly no other way, or did she simply not wish to find one? Those questions still haunted her sometimes.

"Sila," said a voice by the doorway. She didn't look up. She already knew it was Marie. "It's past your bedtime," she said sternly.

"Go away," Masila snapped, her words muffled.

"I don't think so." Marie closed the door.

"You do know," she said wryly, "not only are you telling your own sister what to do, you're also speaking to the Guild Leader."

"I'll take my chances." Marie tilted her head. "I bet you're beating yourself up right now."

For a moment, Masila considered denying it. Then she sighed. "How'd you tell?"

"You always acted the same way whenever I or Layeela got hurt. Always seemed to think it was your fault, silly girl. And I'm prepared to bet you're feeling exactly the same way this time."

"So what?"

"What do you mean, so what? It's not true."

"Of course it is."

"How?"

"How? I'm the_ Guild Leader. _I'm supposed to protect you guys. And now I've endangered you all because of my incompetence."

"Hey, no one got hurt-"

"This time," Masila supplemented. "No one got hurt _this time._ That man's still out there, ready to hurt anyone who might have any association to me."

"Well," Marie said after a pause. "I doubt he'll be trying again anytime soon."

"Hm?"

"Ebony and Harry burned down his base. He's going to have a hard time having his followers trust him again, and any friend of yours – Sam, Peter, Lizzie – would be a rather tough catch, don't you think? Especially if time goes by and you have more time to train the younger ones."

"I suppose that makes sense."

"See? And you know, it really isn't your fault. Things could have ended up a lot worse."

"How?"

"Maybe the Guard being angry with us over Vlade and attempting to have war?"

"Oh, that." Masila rubbed her eyes tiredly. Her sister was looking at her in that hopeful, pleading manner that had annoyed her so much as kids. She couldn't resist her anything when she looked at her like that—even cheering up, just for a bit. She made herself smile. "Okay, Marie. I'll lighten up a bit."

"Brilliant! Come on, I'll take you to your chambers."

"You'll carry me?"

"Don't push it, sis."

* * *

Sam woke up the middle of the night with a start, and then cursed so much that his mother would have washed his mouth with soap if she heard him.

He had another nightmare again. And on Christmas, too. It was about Vlade and his followers, and, of course, that terrifying moment when it seemed Auntie was going to do what he said just because he had Sam. And Sam knew that was his fault. If he had been fast enough, if he had escaped, Auntie would have been free sooner. It was really lucky that Ebony, Harry, and Summer found them before anything bad could happen in real life, but the possibilities on what could have happened were endless. And unfortunately, those possibilities showed themselves in his dreams.

He saw Auntie being caught and hanged, and war raging in between the two factions of the kingdom…saw Summer dying by Auntie's hand, and the whole kingdom tumbling into chaos because Vlade had overthrown the Guard….saw the Captain getting a large amount of power after King Hagan declared the death penalty all right again, separating the social classes of the kingdom almost obsessively so he can protect the _true _citizens and seeing Hanso, Kayley, and all the little ones he took care of starving….

And in the end of it all, he was to blame.

Auntie had told him that was silly when he confided to her. She told him that it was because of him that they got rescued in the first place, because only he would be clever enough to ally himself with rich kids and guards, which Vlade simply did not expect. Him doing that might have saved them.

She was probably right. That didn't mean he was happy about leaving such things to chance; and he hated deceiving her about the real reason why he sought the help of Summer Vines. The truth of the matter was, he looked up to her quite a bit. In her, for the first time, he saw a balance between the two extremes he had forever been being pushed and pulled by. It was the stories about her and her friendship with Peter that had first drawn him to the lady and then, eventually, to a career as a guard.

That will never happen now.

This morning – the last day of signing up, he knew – he actually considered sneaking down to the Guard Base and registering, then filling his mum about it before New Year's. He actually got the money that he had saved since he was little out from its hiding place and was three steps out his bedroom door when he remembered the real reason why he was hesitant to enrol in the first place.

Auntie was in the living room, putting up a tree she knew that his mum and dad would have been too tired to put up after the rush of customers last night. She had smirked at him and said, "Oh, come now, Sammy, don't look so surprised. I had an early errand to run, and I felt rather obligated to get my sister _something _for Christmas. Now, if you're done gaping at me, get dressed, eat breakfast, and make yourself useful." And just like that, all his resolve vanished into thin air. The rest of the day was spent singing carols, eating cookies, and listening to Lizzie alternate between scolding and boasting about her son and nephew being so brave and so stupid.

At the back of his mind, a little voice told him that it wasn't yet too late. He still had a few minutes. If he hurried, he could grab his money, get to the Guard Base, and-

And nothing.

Signing up for the Guard was probably equal to losing Auntie forever, and before, in those wistful, dreamy nights, he sometimes (rarely!) thought that it might actually be bearable if it meant fulfilling his dreams, he knew now that it just wasn't. He had a taste of his life without Aunt Masila when Vlade had grabbed him, when the man openly said that she was to die; fear clutched at his heart, and the thought _no this can't be happening it's all my fault _resonated in his head. He couldn't bear for that to happen. Ever.

Normally, in the times when his dreams troubled him, he would go to his parents' room and climb into their bed, where he could soak up their warmth and comfort. Mum was especially good at it, sometimes even waking up and grabbing him warm milk and a cookie. But tonight was Christmas, one of the rare times when Auntie slept in his house, and it was her his fears and comforts lay. Softly, he padded into her room.

"Auntie?" he said in small voice.

"Mmm?"

"Can I stay with you? Please?"

She wrapped her arms around him as an answer, and soon her breathing turned deep again. Sam watched the clock strike midnight, and he knew his chances of being a guard were over.

* * *

"Sammy, get up."

"Five more hours."

"Sammy!" He gave no response. "I have a surprise for you."

Instantly, his head popped up. "Surprise? What kind of surprise?"

"Oh, eager little lad, aren't you?" she said amusedly. "It's a nice one, I think. Hurry up and eat your breakfast first."

Sam slid down the banister to the kitchen, which, as always, had the lovely smell of baking bread. His father greeted him with a warm smile. "Mornin', Sammy."

"Hi, Dad! Are those pancakes?"

"Yep. Wait just a mo', I'll have yours ready in a jiffy." With that, the baker flipped the pancake upside and down, tossed it in a plate, and poured syrup and butter all over it. From the doorway, Masila and Marie clapped appreciatively. He bowed. "Ah, pancake-flipping. The one talent my brilliant wife and sis-in-law don't have."

"Only because I don't have enough time to practice," Marie teased.

As always, the heavenly pastry was eaten up in a matter of minutes. "Okay!" Sam said brightly. "Where's my surprise?"

"Come on," Auntie said, gesturing to the doorway.

"It's outside? It must be a really big surprise."

"Not exactly outside, sweetheart. We're going to have to travel a bit ways. Your parents don't mind."

"We don't," Marie promised, stooping down and kissing her son on the cheek. For some reason, there was a sad little smile on her face, but Sam paid no attention to it. Her husband put his arm around her and told Sam simply, "Be good."

"I always am!" the boy called back.

For a while, he walked happily with his aunt. The breeze whirled around happily in his hair, and he smiled in bright spirits. Deep down, he truly was still disappointed—but there was something freeing about not having your life in suspense anymore. He's made his choice. Nothing he can do now can change it, and there was no used in regretting it; he's not even sure if he should. Now he just had to live with it.

All the same, he really was rather shocked when they stopped by the Guard Base. "Uh, Auntie? What are we doing here?"

"It's the first of January, yes?"

"Uh-huh."

"All the kids wishing to be guards are to report by then."

"Yeah…." He glanced at the excited kids' direction, but then quickly looked away. It really was too soon to look at his crushed dream in the face right now. "Why? Are we going to scope out new rivals?"

She arched an eyebrow. "No."

"Uh, thank Summer?"

"Nope."

"Say hi to Harry?" he asked, spotting the Lupe in the corner with Ebony. He felt a mixture of envy and sympathy for the guy—a lot of people were shunning him, perhaps because of his status as a rich kid. Lizzie had probably already dropped him off that morning, and now his only companion was the young Usul, who would have to eventually leave.

"Good guess, and you're certainly going to do that later. But no."

"I give up," the seven-year-old said after a while. "What are we doing here?"

"You wanted to join, didn't you?"

Six words. Eight syllables. That was all it took for the blood to freeze in Sam's veins. He began stuttering. "Uh…um, I…how did you….er….that is, I didn't actually…"

"Sammy," she said gently.

He looked at her nervously. "Yeah?"

"I'm not stupid." He flinched. "I could see what was going on clearly as anyone else could."

"I know," he said softly.

"Why didn't you tell me, sweetheart? I thought it was only a matter of time."

"But I-I thought you'd be disappointed in me."

"In you?" She laughed slightly. "Sammy, when have I ever been disappointed you? In your behaviour sometimes, perhaps. In your laziness in getting up in the morning, of course." He chuckled at that. "But never at _you_, sweetheart. You're Sammy, and I'm you're Auntie, no matter what. You know that, right?"

"No matter what," he repeated, a lump forming in his throat. He gulped and nodded. "Yeah. But, Auntie, it's too late. The last day was supposed to be at Christmas-"

"What did you think my 'early errand' was?" she asked dryly.

His heart began to pound. "Really? You signed me up?"

"Of course. And your mum and I sent your stuff beforehand."

"So…I really can go?"

"Yes." Then she sighed. "Though I'm afraid, darling, as much as I adore you, I'm not going to let my thieves go easy on you."

A prickle of mischievousness settled on Sam. "Oh, really? What made you think you've gotta make them go easy on me? Or any of the Guard, really?"

"Excuse me? Your Guard doesn't stand a chance against my thieves."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"We'll see about that," he warned her.

"Uh-huh." She smiled at him. "You better go, Sam. That Draik over there is supposed to be taking in people's basic info, I think."

"Okay." He hesitated. "Are you sure it's all right?"

"Positive. It's not like it's forever, sweetheart."

"Yeah. There'll be holidays and sometimes weekends, and family's allowed to visit…."

"Oh, wouldn't the guards like that?"

"I don't think so."

"Neither do I."

"Good."

"Good."

He took a few more steps. And then, on an impulse, he turned back and hugged her around the waist. "Love you, Auntie," he murmured. Just as suddenly, he let go. He gave her one last grin and ran off, towards the Guard, and towards, she supposed, his future.

"And you love him back, don't you?" said a voice behind her.

"What do you think, Miss Vines?" she said wryly. "Always." She began walking away.

"Is that any way to treat the person who rescued you?" Summer couldn't help but tease.

Masila looked confused. "Saved me? From what?"

"Um, a few weeks ago? When you were kidnapped by some crazy terrorist guy? Ring any bells?"

"I refuse to confirm or deny that," she said maddeningly.

"But I saw-"

"I believe you saw a lady wearing a hood. That doesn't necessarily need to be _me._"

"But- but-" Masila gave her a charming grin, and Summer had to concede defeat. Quicksilver had eluded their clutches again. "Oh, you're good."

"Same is true for you as well, I hope you know."

"At least answer one question."

"Depends on what it is."

"You said you weren't disappointed in Sam," Summer said carefully. "Are you proud of him, then?"

Masila looked at her straight in the eye. They were dark and mysterious and drew her in, fathomless as their owner. And yet, in that one moment, she understood the lady called Quicksilver perfectly. She knew now, for a fact, that she truly did love her nephew. The lady tossed her hood back with a flick of her head – quite arrogantly, really – and said in a firm voice, "Why in the world wouldn't I be?"

* * *

Captain John Ritch did not like what he was seeing.

Quicksilver had just left after talking to Summer (Foolish girl, does she really think she's going to get that promotion now?). Her so-called best friend was quite calmly conversing with her nephew, as if nothing was wrong with the little brat (as if the boy wasn't raised among thieves, and was almost undoubtedly a spy for the Thieves' Guild). And there was a fact that the notorious Lizzie Laron had dropped off Harry Winsdor earlier that morning…

He put his head in his hands. This was going to be a difficult group, he could just feel it.

As far as he could tell, there was only one good member he could count on there. He smiled as a little Eyrie girl with long blonde hair and purple highlights skipped to him. "Hi, Captain John."

"Miss Woods. I see you're finally old enough to enter the Guard."

"_Finally_!" she agreed enthusiastically. "I've been waiting my entire life for this!"

"So you've told me since your fourth birthday," he said dryly. He'd become quite a regular visitor in the Woods' household because of a certain case in the past. He'd felt sorry for the two lonely little girls there, but had somehow, inexplicably, bonded with the fiery protective older one. She had spirit—and a good chance that she could be a great guard. He had felt in his bones even then. "Now, if only we had one or two more people like you. I might actually stay sane."

"Don't give up hope yet," she said brightly. "There are plenty of kids here."

"Not all of them good."

"How can you tell?" she asked, puzzled. "Do you know some of them?"

"I know _about _some of them that is proof enough they could cause trouble." He straightened up, suddenly having an idea. He pointed to Sam. "Especially that boy."

"The Kyrii?"

"Yes. His name is Samuel Evans, and he's Quicksilver's nephew."

"Whoa." Her eyes narrowed, no doubt suspecting the spy theory already. Clever girl. "What's he doing here?"

"Truthfully, I have no idea. I honestly doubt he genuinely wants to become a guard—it's rumoured far and wide he loves his aunt more than anything."

"Still," Theresa said reluctantly, "we _should _give him the benefit of the doubt."

"Of course, of course. Still. You'll keep an eye on him for me, won't you, Miss Woods? And report anything _interesting _he says about his family?" Privately, he would _really _like a confirmation on if his aunt is truly the leader of the Thieves' Guild or not. It was long overdue, anyway, and if there was any of the batch who would succeed in wringing the secret out of the Evans boy, it was Theresa.

The little girl narrowed her eyes at Sam, a determined expression crossing her face. "I won't let you down."

* * *

**A/N:**

**For the events in the Mountain, I'm just going to call it like I see it and explain things that made sense to me. That plot had so many plot-holes in it I'm sometimes not sure what to do. I'm considering rewriting it so that it can make sense. Or is someone else interested to take up the challenge?**

**Oh, and if you've guessed why I put I slightly cheerful Kayley here, it's because 1) She's a toddler, I don't think she was born a sourpuss 2) She's friends with Hanso earlier, causing her to lighten up a bit and 3) Something changed in her timeline. **

**Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! ;)**


End file.
